*

exactly. and another thing is that he would purposely sit next to you. you weren't ugly, you were considered to be the perfect shape of an alpha. tall, built, deep voice and everything. but it didn't mean omegas wanted to sit next to you unless you made them. but he would sit his pretty as down, plop right there whilst your professor would go on and on about something you didn't care about.

weird. weird. weird. weird.

you honestly thought that would be the last you'd see of the guy, you really wouldn't have to worry about him besides him sitting next to you or you seeing him in the hallways. but you swore, whatever god was up there hated the shit out of you and wanted your life to end.

"im not sure what to do with you anymore," your professor stated, gently waving around your graded test papers. this was the exact class you refused to try in, all because of that omega. "i know— i know you're not an idiot so don't try that route with me." you tensed up, looking to the side. your grade in here was utterly abysmal. almost a fifteen percent and the only thing you turned in was the syllabus when you first got here, and that fifteen percent was generous of your professor to give you. "every other class your scores are through the roof i mean- in your algebra you got the highest on your exams." he shook his head. "this is creative writing. you can write whatever you please and i give you a good grade for it." but you retaliated, couldn't give him the actual reason that you were intimidated by some omega.

"but this stuff is hard! you know.." bursting out didn't really make it any better, you could see the annoyance chipping away at him. "i can't ever think of anything, im only good in my other classes because.." because you're awesome, the absolute prodigy of the entire campus. "because i just don't have a large..mind?" your professor gave you that look, then he sighed and rolled his eyes. "well, lucky for you," he started. "one of your classmates i've spoken with are absolutely happy to help you."

huh? what classmate? your brows furrowed, a small instinctive snarl on your face as your tail bristled and twitched. you turned around and oh my god. oh my god- was that guy there the whole time? just behind you? and was he staring at your ass– "no way!" he flinched, and your ears pinned down to your head. "excuse me?" your professor's voice was like a disappointed mother's. but you still pushed, your own ego and pride not stopping you. "you can't have an omega tutor me that's.." gosh.

you huffed, your nose twitching. "whatever man."

"just think of something. anything." he'd tell you, the blinking line on your computer screen that showed you hadn't typed absolutely anything. you knew how to write creatively you weren't the type of alpha to think with his muscles(though they were amazing). you just couldn't focus with him here. and it was his dorm instead of yours god, you wished you had class time to do this but you don't and that's the worst thing.

"i am thinking," you shot back, clicking your tongue against the roof of your mouth with the roll of your eyes. your nose twitched as you leaned onto your palm, staring at the screen. he smelled.

now he didn't smell bad, and that was the problem. he was releasing that scent on purpose. "stop that," you snipped. he looked at you, one ear perking up as his head tilted. "stop what?" your tail swatted at the ground. "you know!" "i don't know." you snarled at him, though it made you cringe almost instantly when he gave you that look. it was just a look. he didn't really look like that before.

"aw..look at you," he didn't sound like that before either. your ears twitched as your back arched gently off of his mattress that was stupidly comfortable. your tail was wagging, wagging like you had absolutely no shame. your shirt was pulled up to your chin, and your pants were completely off. your legs were spread like you were a bitch- like you were being bitched. your face felt all hot, eyes already watering from him just jerking you off. "ahh–!" your mouth fell open in a gasp, another splurt of cum shooting from your tip.

"look at that, again?" he was straddling you, hands moving up and down so slowly yet he was somehow making you cum so quickly. "you real cute y'know that?" his cotton tail twitched, his arousal clear through his own pants, the wetness starting to spread and cause more friction. "you got a nice dick too." then he sighed like he hadn't meant it. "too bad," his fingers squeezed, really hard. "fuck, ohmy!" he hummed like he was testing you. "this thing won't be put to any use. size really doesn't matter does it?" and he laughed at you, laughed, how could he!?

you wanted to fight back so badly you did, say something to retaliate but god damn it..

he started to move a bit, leaning over as his hands started to dig through a nearby drawer which made his clothed cunt drag along your shaft. "i pictured you naked almost all the time," the pathetic noise that came out made you want to die. "don't feel so bad about it, that's a good thing!" he smiled, then it dropped as he pulled out lube and something else. you couldn't really see it much but it clanked and jingled a bit. "and i pictured you with a bit more..hair..at least down there but it's nowhere to be seen on your body." was this a joke to him?

only then had you really sat up, but that voice of his– "down." and like a puppy you laid right back down like his voice was instant command to be used to. what had been in his hand was something like a string with an oval like item attached to it. it was pink. how cute. the straps had small pieces of sticky tape stuck to it, as if they were put there on purpose. his hands worked back around your cock, sticking the tape like item to your length and pressing the oval bud right to your tip.

and then you noticed the remote. fuck it was a vibrator. "stay still." he had slid himself off your lap, practically hopping to another drawer. you caught yourself whining, hips shifting upwards at that pressure loss. you hated that you liked it, hated how you wanted him on you. your ears twitched from time to time, listening to the sound of a buckle? what was he doing? when you felt that pressure on you again, but it was different. he was moving your body to the desired position he wanted, his hands moving under your thighs and you had felt something press against the midst of it.

you held your breath, heartbeat getting quicker as you saw it. it was big, bigger than your dick and you have a big dick. it was connected to an 'o' ring, the color purple with a realistic tip and realistic veins. it was terrifying. "that..it- it's not going in me is it..?" the bunnies ears wiggled, and he cooed with a small laugh. "oh..poor thing," he couldn't be for real.. "deep breath!"

"guh—! a-haah!" the headboard banged against the wall, wet sounds of slapping due to leaking arousal, cum, and lubricant. half of the bottle was used up to get that damn thing to fit. it was hitting every little spongy spot inside of you, pressing hard against that bundle of nerves that had your feet curling and cramping up. the vibrator seemed to make the swollen mushroom tip of your head leak uncontrollably, the twitch of your cock almost constant with each buzz.

and the omega above you was eating it up, drooling almost more than you with a sense of obsession in his eyes, his glasses fogging up and almost starting to fall off. now you understood what 'fuck like rabbits' meant. "mmm..does this feel good? huh?" a harsh thrust, purposely angled right there. you gasped, eyes wide and mouth open. you couldn't answer, it wasn't possible. "oh answer me won't you? i know it hurts i do." he frowned, a fake sympathetic one.

"please— uh!" he tilted his head, a giggle coming through. "sorry what? did you say stop?" he stopped, though still buried real good and deep inside. the harness of the strap rubbed against his clit, a wetness dripping along his folds beneath the crotch part. he was enjoying this just as much, head just as loopy. "no, no!" you frantically shook your head when he stopped, shimmying your hips in a pathetic attempt to go up and down on the toy. one of his hands moved away from your thigh, moving up and down your torso and giving one good and harsh squeeze to your left pec.

"god..your tits are so pretty," a slow movement of his hips, starting his thrusts again but slower. "wish you could see the way they bounce as i fuck you. so cute." your tail wagged behind you, out of shame and happy arousal. his fingers bent, only two of them up and starting to pinch at perky peaks.

"these are such a pretty color too. wonder if milk would ever come out." another slow slide of the toy, making you give a strained moan. "hm. well we can test that next time! i have loads of new toys to try on you." he beamed, lifting your hips up a bit more again.

"Niiiice, right?" He hummed, while you were beginning to squirm from the new sensation, his fingers curling up before pushing inside and stretching you out for his cock.

You whimpered and nodded shakily, much to his delight.

His smile got wider, like a Cheshire Cat, before he kissed you again and thrusted his fingers further, going just slightly more rougher to hear you moan and whine against his lips. Your nails beginning to dig and scratch at his shoulders, legs twitching and falling apart.

He pulled back suddenly, leaving you gasping and dazed, taking his fingers out and holding his hand out teasingly. Your essence dripping from his long, elegant fingers.

"Look here, you're already doing so well. So ready for me," he purred before leaning over again and nuzzling into the crook of your neck, kissing to distract you.

"Shhh, just breathe," he whispered.

You gasped and let out a strangled whimper when feeling the thick head of his cock rub against your pussy and begin to push inside. Your hands quickly reach out against his slender arms and scratched your way to his back, breath quickening and hitching.

"N-nghh.. f-flinssss.." you whined for him, while he slowly eased inside, before sighing against your neck and relaxing. "Shhh, I've got you, just relax, I swear it'll all feel better," he peppered your face with slow, soft kisses.

"C-can I pull..?" You mumbled softly, half lidded eyes looking up into his darkened ones. One of your hands were moving up, gently tangling into the long, luscious hair of his.

He didn't hesitate, nodding and smiling down at you sweetly.

Darkened, lustful eyes of his were glued to your tummy, watching the bulge from his thick cock grown and shrink as he thrusted in and out. He loved the feeling of being inside you, and got harder at the look of you squirming beneath him, and twitched inside you at your sweet little whimpers and moans.

As your hand pulled at his hair, his teeth bit into his bottom lip, the bed beginning to creak, the sound of skin slapping on skin filling the room.

His hips pulled back, before slowly easing inside again, and continuing those slow, sensual movements. Thrusting back and forth, just gently enough so that it wouldn't hurt. his eyes flickered up from your neck, watching your expression begin to relax and get comfortable with his slow, steady thrusts.

He pulled back, before sharply thrusting in one last time, making you squeak and whine, pouting up at him confused.

Your pout was met with a chaste kiss, "I'm sorry.. I couldn't resist. I'll go slow from now on, okay?" He pulled his hips back slowly, his thumb finding the little bud of your clit and rubbing it slowly.

"Just cum for me, alright, darling?"

ɞ⠀.⠀VARKA ﹗ ໒꒱۪

Varka was messy, and had no shame about it.

Slobbering and eating you out all messily, face buried in between your thighs, slurping loudly. Very much enjoying his meal. Groaning and moaning, while you were squirming, whining and covering your mouth shyly. You had expected him to be this big macho man and be all rough, to just make you take it.

Yet there he was, happiest when tasting and giving you pleasure, happiest when watching you cum on his face. His tongue eagerly licking up when you squirted out.

"So good, so good," he muttered and licked your pussy a few more times before pulling away with a sigh and wiping his dripping mouth. Your essence still dribbling down his chin and soaked into the bedsheets below, his tired eyes gazing into yours lovingly. "You ready?"

Your shaky nod didn't convince him, as you were still hiccuping and breathing heavily from your last orgasm. "I need a yes or a no, use your words," he said quietly, hand taking a grasp of your chin, gently making you face up at him properly.

"..yes.. yes please. I need you," you nodded and gasped, whining and already reaching out your hands for him.

He smiled happily before quickly covering your body with his much larger, muscular, scarred one. Completely overpowering you but making sure you had enough room to squirm and move, his lips meeting yours lovingly.

Those large hands of his pushed your thighs apart, before hooking your legs over his hips. Keeping you spread wide open beneath him, naked, sweaty, ready for him.

"You'll be okay, alright?" He nodded, noticing your nerves and shaky breathing, kissing your forehead. "It'll be just a small pop of pain, and then a world of pleasure.. just tap my shoulder and I'll slow down, or use the word and I'll pull out, okay?" He nodded, before furrowing his brows when you only nodded.

"Use your words."

"..I'll tap on your shoulder when it hurts and say the safe word when I can't take it anymore," you nodded to him, before sighing and smiling again when he kissed your forehead. "Good girl."

His head buried into the crook of your neck, kissing and finding your sensitive spots. Sucking hickeys and kissing down your jawline, while his hands were moving to spread your folds apart and stroke his thick cock. The base of his blond pubic hair tickles your inner thighs, before you felt it.

The large, demanding pressure began to build inside you when you felt the tip of it slide in. You had expected it to be big, but this big? You were already beginning to plan out your funeral, thighs twitching and squirming.

"Shh, shh, I'll be slow, just relax, I promise," he kissed down your jaw and trailed down the valley on your breasts, suckling a nipple into his mouth. Trying to get you to focus on the pleasure.

His cock was demanding your attention. Your brain couldn't focus on anything else, as much as you squeezed your eyes shut, whined, and squirmed underneath him. Your nails began to rake on his muscular back, adding to the scars with red lines of passion. It was so big, so thick, stretching you to the core

You were already so slick and drooling around him, drooling from both lips, before mumbling, "I-it's big.."

"I'm—… I'm not even halfway in," he muttered, pursing his lips and pausing for just a second before beginning to try and push in as far as he could, in a quick, painless manner. Not even halfway? You were already feeling his cock splitting you in two, what did he mean "not even halfway"?

It felt like something you had never known, finally clicked inside your head when he pushed in the last inch and grinned up at you, popping free of your nipple. "See! Nothing to it," he hummed happily, while you were drooling and cumming around him from just the size. Your tummy having such a lewd bulge from his cock.

"D-does it get any smaller…?" You drooled, whimpering and squeezing so tightly. You were definitely going to be spending majority of the time squirting and squirming on his dick.

“Smaller?” He scoffed and smiled, before kissing your forehead and then the tip of your nose. “Obviously not, silly. It can get bigger though,” he tilted his head to the side, all goofy.

Oh my archons, he was going to split you in two.

ɞ⠀.⠀DOTTORE ﹗ ໒꒱۪

"Oh come on, miss patient, you're not seriously backing out already?" Dottore pouted and mocked you, holding an empty syringe in his hands. The one he had promised would help you enjoy your first time with him infinitely more and not feel an ounce of paint whatsoever.

"Z-zandik—" you whimpered, eyes beginning to haze over, sitting naked on his experimental table. The light flicking above you both in the empty, cold room.

"Uh-uh, not Zandik, it's Doctor now, okay?" He smirked and pinched your cheek.

The air wasn't biting at your skin anymore, the fluids beginning to seep through your veins in what felt like a fiery fever. The blue haired menace's eyes were narrowing, watching your expression change, your eyes glaze over and pussy begin to glisten and seep uncontrollably.

"..doctor 'tore.." you mumbled, looking up at him, and pulling him closer by his shoulders. Eyeing his shirtless body up and down.

He smirked and cupped your cheek again, testing to see how much the medicine had stripped away your shyness and pain. "Tell me, how much do you want me? Where do you want me?" He purred, already moving his hands to the buckle of his pants, stripping eagerly.

You hesitated and thought, before laying back on the table and spewing your legs. "…need you a lotttt.." you mumbled, watching him crawl over you quickly and plant feverish kisses to your neck.

"Need you here.." you mumbled, moving one of your hands down shakily, and using your fingers to spreading your folds apart. Glistening and soaking wet, dripping onto the table below, ready and waiting for his experiment.

He hummed, smirking down at you and glanced down at your pussy, before kissing your forehead. "See? I told you the medicine would work so well with this untouched body of yours… didn't expect this much… fluid production, although," he hummed and was already mentally noting to edit the formula so that it wouldn't harm your body's natural production.

"You're alright to continue, miss patient?" He whispered down at you, before smirking at your confident nod.

"You're so filthy," he scoffed, smirking and spreading your legs wide apart, before slipping his fingers into your depths to test the waters. "They slide in so easily, tsk, you're so wet already," he huffed before brushing your hair out of your face. "Do you want me to move onto the next step in the method of this experiment?"

"P-pleaseeee.. d-doctor 'tore," you moaned, closing your eyes in pleasure as he fingered you, before gasping and pouting when he slid his fingers out again.

"If you're begging that much, you deserve something bigger, something harder," he darkly suggested, before smirking down at your dead face. The next thing you felt in your daze was the thick tip of his cock rubbing over your clit, collecting the slick, before it began to push inside your tight passage.

The feeling was numbing, more than painful. A small whimper escaping your lips, just clenching your fists, waiting for the initial stretch to wash over.

Only to open your eyes, half lidded, when you heard him snort. "Miss patient.. are you sleeping in the middle of my experiment?" He pouted and flicked your forehead.

It took you a second to realise he was teasing you, before you began to whine and argue back with him. "I wasn't sleeping! It just felt so numbing and c-cold—" you were arguing with him, before gasping and moaning, eyes rolling back for a split second.

That bastard had thrusted while you were talking, riling you up just to see you lose it in the middle of a sentence.

"You were saying?"

"Y-you're evil—" you were whining before quickly fading your arguments into needy moans and whimpers, arching your back and holding onto the shaky table as he began to rut into you. Fucking you at that steady pace, hips slapping against your ass. Balls heavy and waiting to spill inside you, to carry out another experiment inside you.

Slap. Slap. Slap.

It filled the room, while you began to drool. His breath finally hitching and adjusting, growing heavy from trying to not bust on the spot while you were squeezing him so tightly.

"Fuck.. you're so right. I should've made that fuckin' erection chewing gum too," he scoffed, eyes narrowing on your breasts.

ɞ⠀.⠀LOHEN ﹗ ໒꒱۪

"Pfft, look at you," lohen smirked, "not even name calling now?" He teased.

You were sitting on his lap. Naked, pouting and slowly rubbing your pussy back on his erect cock. His eyes half lidded, biting his bottom lip, watching you with lustful eyes. His hands resting on your hips, thumbs rubbing back and forth.

"You said you'd help me and be sweetttt!" You whined and grumbled down at him, before smacking his shoulder.

He groaned and pretended to be hurt, before pouting up at you playfully. "I am being sweeeet," he mimicked your whine, before smirking and pinching your hip. "I wanna see you ride me, it'll be fun, and I promise to help you get on," he nodded with a mock-serious expression.

You huffed, unconvinced before lifting your hips and scooting back just an inch, letting out a soft whimper when he grabbed the base of his cock, stroking it and guiding it to the entrance of your tight hole. "That's ittt, just slowly sit down," he mumbled, shifting on the bed slightly and guiding your hips down.

"H-haah.. s-slowlyyy.." you whined, easing your hips down, feeling his hard, thick dick begin to slide inside. The feeling of it twitching made you squirm and look more flustered, while his expression began to change from agonising pleasure to mischievous smirking.

His hands were slowly helping your hips down, as you relied on him to guide you, before he pulled them away quickly, making you squeak and plop down quickly. Gasping and whimpering, impaled on every thick, girthy inch of his cock.

A moan escaped your lips, tears pricking the corner of your eyes from the sudden, intense pleasure and pain mix. The room was filled whining and as you were smacking his shoulders repeatedly, "y-you're horrible! A terrible boyfriend! You pushed me down!"

"I did?" He pouted and played innocent, hands moving to wipe the small dotted tears at the corners of your eyes. "I think I'm a lovely boyfriend," he frowned, before genuinely asking, "you're okay though, right? Tell me if you want to stop, I'll stop, no teasing," he nodded to you.

You sniffled, before nodding and leaning over to nuzzle into the crook of his neck. "I w-wanna keep going.." a small mumble by his neck.

He smiled, turning his head to peck your hair, before thrusting up into you gently. "You're the one who's supposed to be riding me, doll," he huffed and played with your hair, tilting his head to the side to lick the shell of your ear.

The lick made you shiver, before trying to slowly wriggle your hips up and bring them down. "I-I'm tryingggg! Be patient," you huffed.

His teasing smirk began to fade as the bed was quietly creaking, only your soft little moans being the sounds of pleasure in the quiet bedroom. "E-ehh.. nnh.. mmh…" you whimpered softly, learning how to slowly pleasure yourself on his dick. His eyes half lidded, viewing you with a cold, cynical look, before smiling again and thrusting up quickly into your soft, wet pussy.

"L-lohennnn.. this is too much work," you huffed, giving up and laying limp on top of him.

He hummed, before kissing the top of your head and wrapping his arms around you tightly, quickly rolling you both over so that you were flustered, naked, and underneath him. "E-eh..?" You muttered confused, while his hands were already spreading your legs.

"Just take it, okay? You know the word to say if you want me to stop," he smiled at you. Nervousness breeding inside your gut, already gripping the sheets to prepare yourself.

You were so fucked.

“Let’s pack it up and get it back to mom,” his dad says. “You’ve never had rabbit stew before, have you? Your mom makes a mean one! Little spicy, though.”

His father grabs the deceased rabbit by its long ears, holding it up like it's a trophy. The joy that splits his face in half, the lifeless body of the animal grasped within his fist—none of it makes sense.

Just yesterday, Lohen had attempted to stomp a spider beneath his foot. His parents had admonished him, told him that nature was to be respected. His mother cradled that spider between a cup and a piece of paper, before letting it crawl away on its spindling legs beyond the reach of their home.

What’s a spider to a hare, anyway? One’s disgusting and creepy, while the other one’s actually got a semblance of endearment. How can his father take pride in slaughtering forest animals, then turn around and serve as the savior of the arachnids? Why do his parents insist on crafting guns and bows and arrows, only to warn Lohen never to point any of those weapons at another human being?

Shouldn’t all things die the same way?

“C’mon sport,” his father says, squeezing Lohen’s shoulder. “Let’s go make dinner.”

In an instant, Lohen decides that he hates hypocrites.

It was 17 years ago when Lohen was old enough to hold a gun, and his father tried to play peacemaker.

“Please,” his father begs. “He’s just a boy. Do what you want with me, but—!”

His father’s voice is suppressed by a loud, violent thud. Inside the car, Lohen’s eyes focus down on his hands, balled up into fists atop his thighs. He thinks of the silver revolver in his father’s glovebox, the AR-15 tucked away in its custom-modeled case for their next customer. In his left hand, he plays with the gleaming metal arrowhead he had stolen from his father’s workshop, feeling along its sharp edge with the pad of his fingers.

Why does his father choose not to make use of the weapons he’s spent years crafting? Why does he insist on saving the wretched spider, killing the frightened bunny, and sparing the criminals who dare to put a gun to his temple? It doesn’t make sense.

The car door is all but torn off of its hinges. Lohen quickly slots the arrowhead into his pocket, his throat tightening. He stares at the back of the passenger seat, losing himself in the pattern of the black fabric, and praying that he was anywhere else.

“Get out,” someone says to him.

They don’t yell, but they certainly don’t ask.

The revolver’s in the glovebox. If he hadn’t listened to his father, he could have already had it in his hands, pointed it at the scum who dared to threaten them. The AR-15 is in the trunk. The sight of that alone would make any normal person think twice.

Lohen chose to listen to his father, even though it didn’t make sense.

In an instant, Lohen decides that he hates cowardice.

It was 16 and a half years ago when Lohen was old enough to master target shooting, and his mother and father begged him to put the gun down.

“Lohen, dear,” his mother pleads. “This is too much.”

“Listen to your mother, Lohen,” his father echoes. “Hunting game is fine, but it’s becoming an obsession for you. You can’t just shoot every buck you see. We have to respect the rules of the forest.”

Lohen rubs the grease from his palm before reaching for another bullet. After slotting it into his rifle, he snaps the body shut, holding it at the ready for the next large animal he lays eyes on. His mother’s crying, his father’s trying to reason with him, but as soon as Lohen sees those antlers, he pulls the trigger.

Bang!

With a loud, violent thud, the buck falls to the floor. A wild rabbit runs past, hopping over the dead carcass before barreling straight into the brush.

“Lohen, please,” his mother cries. “You have to stop.”

“There won’t be a single buck left at this point!” his father snaps, standing before Lohen with his arms extended wide. “I thought I taught you to respect nature! If you kill all these animals, you’ll disrupt the food chain!”

Lohen’s eyes narrow.

“It’s okay to kill rabbits,” he says, “because there’s a lot of them. But it’s not okay to kill deer, because there’s less of them.”

“Yes! Exactly! That’s why there are mandated limits, son!”

“It’s not okay to kill bears,” he drones on, “because there are even less of them. But it’s okay to fish, because there’s a lot of fish in the river.”

His father looks unnaturally pale. His eyes turn down to the muzzle of Lohen’s gun before turning back to those of his son.

“Put the rifle down, Lohen.”

He doesn’t yell, but he certainly doesn’t ask.

A flash of brown catches Lohen’s eye. He turns his head, and about thirty meters across from him is a galloping doe.

Lohen lifts the rifle to his shoulder.

“Lohen—!”

Bang!

His mother falls to her knees, sobbing. His father tries to wrangle the rifle from Lohen’s hands, spewing curses as his face turns beet red, slinging words that he’s made Lohen swear never to say, lest he want to contribute all of his savings into a glass jar. He fights Lohen with the strength of an adult, and as the shorter, smaller one in this situation, Lohen is all but powerless.

It makes him sick.

“You’re grounded!” his father snarls. “By the will of Barbatos, Lohen—you’re grounded for a month!”

The man’s a hypocrite and a coward, but at the end of the day, he’s stronger. If a gun can be used to hunt rabbits, if a rifle can shoot holes through the body of a buck, if a single shell can fell even the largest of grizzly bears, then what’s stopping that gun from being used to hunt criminals? When that man and his flock of police officers flooded Eroch’s compound, why didn’t they shoot any and everything that moved on sight? Even Eroch understood what it took to eliminate a beast—he put that gun to his temple and shot.

It doesn’t make sense. His father, his mother, himself—none of it makes sense. Spare the spider, kill the hare, spare the buck, kill the fish, spare Eroch, kill nothing, nothing, nothing.

Lohen wonders what it sounded like when Eroch’s lifeless body fell to the ground. Was it a dull thud, like that of a 200 pound buck against the forest floor? Or was it a loud, violent sound, like that of Eroch’s fist against his father’s face? Ah, how he wishes he had been there to hear it, to see the spray of blood and brains, to take pleasure in knowing that something vile had been destroyed.

In an instant, Lohen decides that the rifle in his hands can handle more than just livestock.

It’s 8 PM at the Windblume Festival, and instead of wearing a spandex suit that makes you nauseous, you’re wearing a loose dress with your hand curled tightly in Lohen’s.

You stare at him as you walk, paying no attention to the crowd as it moves around you. The area’s abuzz with laughter and conversation, the sounds of children and drunk laughter coalescing over your head. You’re smiling at Lohen’s profile, your eyes fixed to the mole studding his cheek. His lips are moving and words are coming out, but all you can focus on is that charming face of his.

You grasp his hand tighter. Lohen’s head turns to yours, his eyes blinking.

“Tight grip you got there,” he says, a smirk rising to his face. “You know I won’t run away from you, right?”

Warmth floods your cheeks. Smiling still, you give him a small nod.

“This way, I’ll ensure it.”

Lohen laughs. Aside from his call of your name, aside from his confessions of love, that laugh of his is your favorite sound in the world.

“Wanna get a candied apple?” he asks. “The guy who sells ‘em here makes the best ones I’ve ever had.”

Your eyes flick to the line, which extends from the green-tarped stand to a solid ten meters into the distance. Wincing, you say, “No…I’m okay.”

“Hm. But I want one.”

The way he pouts at you makes your heart skip a beat. Your lips split into a toothy grin as laughter bubbles in your chest.

“Let’s get you one then,” you murmur.

“You’ll stand in that long ass line with me?” he asks. “Just for one candied apple?”

“You want it, don’t you?” You squeeze his hand firmly. “I don’t mind waiting.”

A touch of pink rises to his cheeks. He laughs, though it sounds somewhat different this time. In a low, rumbling murmur, he says, “I don’t mind waiting either.”

The way Lohen’s cheeks fill with bits of apple as he chews reminds you of the grazing chimpkin from your favorite childhood movie. A loyal animal companion to the princess, who almost always has something he’s nibbling on. You found that endearing as a child, and even in your adulthood, the thought fills you with joy.

“Want a bite?” Lohen says through his mouthful of apple.

You nod. He tilts the apple towards you, offering you the side he hasn’t yet bitten. With the hand that’s not tucked in his, you rotate the stick until you see the dripping white flesh.

Your teeth sink into it, right along the path Lohen had already carved. You look up at him, holding eye contact as you tear away a firm chunk. In your attempt to continue what he started, you’ve bitten too close to the core, but the seeds in your mouth don’t bother you. The taste is still sweet, even if those sharp bits scratch at your tongue every once in a while. 

Lohen’s eyes fall down to your lips. With a smile, he asks, “Do you like it?”

You nod, lifting your free hand to your mouth. Swiping the trail of apple juice running down your face with your fingers, you say, “It’s really good.”

“Told you. You should have gotten one too.”

“I doubt I could finish it. It’s a bit too sweet.”

“I could have finished it for you.”

Something about his words makes your ears tickle. As you lick the sticky pads of your fingers, you shyly look up at him.

Lohen’s hand grasps yours harder. He turns red before throwing his gaze aside.

Oh?

“Lohen,” you say, your lips curling into a smirk. “Are you thinking bad thoughts about me?”

“No,” he replies immediately. “Only good ones. Really, really good ones.”

You giggle before chancing a quick glance around you. Of course, there are eyes everywhere—Mond’s most popular festival isn’t just that in name alone. But the crowd moves too much. No one stays stagnant, and even when you catch a glimpse of someone, in only an instant, they’re forever gone from your memory.

You bite your lip and lean closer to Lohen. Coming close enough for your lips and his ear to be a hair away from touching, you throatily whisper, “Wanna share those good thoughts with me?”

“Bun,” he laughs, turning almost as red as he used to every night at the cabaret. “We can save that for later.”

You want to tease him more, to push him further. Something in you wants to place your hand to his thigh, but then you’ll have to stop holding his hand. You almost feel like you owe it to him, to give him a little bit of excitement when he shows a glimmer of sexual interest in you. On your past dates with clients, that’s how you got the biggest tips.

You freeze.

“Hm? You okay?”

Lohen’s hand tightens even further around yours. To the point where it almost hurts.

“I…I’m fine,” you whisper. “I’m sorry.”

“…What are you sorry for?”

You don’t want to look at him. He might look at you with those piercing eyes of his, the ones that can withdraw whatever piece of information they can find from the confines of your skull. If he knew you were thinking of other clients—

—past clients.

If he knew you were thinking of past clients, you might upset him. You don’t like it when he gives you those sad red eyes.

“Can we walk around?” you ask, forcing a smile to your face. “I want to see more of the booths.”

His teeth crunch into the apple. Chewing slowly, his eyes survey your face with a modicum of confusion to them. When he swallows, losing those cute chipmunk-cheeked pockets of his, he gives you a nod.

“One more bite?” he asks with a grin. He extends that sugar sweet apple before you again, shining with caramel and eroded by his gnawing teeth.

Your mouth is opening before you even think to move it. Once again, you tear into the white flesh of the apple, but the fibrous core scratches your gums just above the back of your teeth. You pull back with a wince, your hand flying to your mouth.

“Shit,” Lohen says with a blink. “You bit right through the core, Bunny.”

“It’s okay,” you say through your mouthful of sweet apple and sharp shells. It hurts, but you tell him, “It still tastes good.”

You’ve been to the Windblume Festival in the past, but you’ve never had this much fun. Lohen brings you around to all the popular stalls, buying you little trinkets and expensive handcrafted perfumes, all without you asking, or really even needing them. Whenever his eyes catch one of those shooting games, which you were certain were rigged as a child, he separates your hands for just a moment to strike the opposing targets down. He carries all your souvenirs in multiple bags on his arm, but he lets you cradle the big plush bunny he won for you underneath your own.

You know that Lohen’s perfect, but with every little reminder of it, you adore him more and more.

“Oh, yeah,” Lohen chirps, “there’s a petting zoo, too. If I'm remembering things right, I think they’ve got some bunnies.”

Your face is warm. “…I want to see them.”

He smirks. “Your wish is my command, Princess.”

He brings your joined hands to his lips, kissing your knuckles like he’s your loyal vassal. You smile so hard that your cheeks hurt. Following alongside him through the ever growing crowd, you see the signs with hand drawn bunnies, sheep, and ponies. The arrows point further down the road of stalls, designating the path for you and Lohen’s next venture.

“I want to go to the petting zoo!” you hear a woman exclaim.

“Nah, babe,” the man at her side says. “I know it seems cute, but I heard that they treat those animals pretty bad.”

Your ears perk at that. You turn your head, looking at the man and woman standing across from each other right by the petting zoo’s directional sign. The man’s rubbing the back of his neck, grimacing, and the woman you presume to be his girlfriend gives him a big frown.

“Oh no,” she says. “How so?”

“Well, someone told me that outside of these petting zoos, they keep ‘em all locked up in cages. They only let ‘em out when they’re making money off of ‘em.”

“That’s terrible…”

“I know. We can find something else to do, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Your lips part. You turn to Lohen with the intent to tell him what you overheard, but the way he’s smiling stops you in your tracks. He looks so happy next to you, and you don’t want to ruin that.

You swallow back your words. You know he’d like it more if you smiled, so you do.

“God, I got so many cute pics of you,” Lohen says, his thumb scrolling across his phone screen. “I don’t even know which one to make my wallpaper next. Maybe I’ll set a different one for every screen…?”

He shows you the picture he took with you holding a big grey rabbit, your eyes closed and teeth showing through your smile. It surprises you, how happy you look, grinning back at yourself. It makes you wring Lohen’s hand and smile.

“Fresh apple cider!” a man yells, strolling past you with a paper sign held over his head. “Dawn Winery’s finest, available while supplies last! Get it before it’s gone, folks!”

You and Lohen look at each other. At the same time, you both laugh.

“Wait right here,” he says, his eyes twinkling. “I’ll go get us some.”

“Huh?” Your hand grasps his harder. “I’ll go with you.”

“I already made you wait in one long ass line with me,” he chirps. “Besides, you look tired. I’ll be quick, I promise.”

He kisses your cheek, releases your hand, and you instinctively reach for him. Lohen winks at you before striding off into the distance, disappearing behind the bustle of the crowd.

Your fingers slowly curl into a fist. You look down at the blue stuffed bunny tucked under your left arm before hugging it to your chest.

Admittedly, you are a bit tired. Your whole life, you’ve never had much of a battery for social events and lively outings like this. Lohen told you it wasn’t really his thing either, but he looks so natural here. He speaks for you when you stumble over your words, and whenever you get overwhelmed, he brings you to a spot to sit down. You haven’t known each other for long, but somehow Lohen knows your every tell, like he’s studied your behavior for years and committed it to memory.

You like that about him. You should make more efforts to do the same for him.

“Woah,” you hear someone say. “You’re cute.”

At first, you don’t register that he’s talking to you. A lithe, sandy-haired man plops down onto the bench beside you, hands spread across the seat with his fingers dangerously close to your leg. Your eyes widen when he looks at you, his deep brown irises shimmering like he’s just spotted gold.

“I’m Tod,” he says. “What’s your name?”

“Um,” you stammer, feeling cold hands grip at your throat. “I have a boyfriend.”

“Hm? Well, he’s not here, is he? What kind of guy leaves a cutie like you sitting by herself?”

He’s grinning, like it’s something to be proud about. Like Lohen’s presence in your life isn’t an obstacle, but just a carnival game you’re playing with him.

“Can you please,” you say hoarsely, “leave.”

“Playing hard to get, huh? I like a woman who gives me a challenge.”

He leans closer to you. Your throat is tightening, your skin crawling with disgust. You want to move, you want to scream, but in the back of your mind, you can’t forget how that man’s fingers wrapped around you, you can’t forget how he seized.

You’re crying.

“Huh?” Tod asks. “Woah, woah, sorry, babe. Hey, calm down, will you?”

You let out a choked sob. Mashing your palms to your eyes, trying to compose yourself, you bawl, “Please go.”

“…Bun?”

As soon as you hear Lohen’s voice, your breath stills. Slowly, hesitantly, you turn your tear-blurred eyes onto his. Those sweet red eyes of his, the ones you love to the moon and back, don’t blink.

They don’t waver.

They’re a raging sea of fire.

Then, they’re sweet again.

“Here you go,” he murmurs, handing you a cold plastic cup. “Hold mine for a sec too.”

Your hands tremble when you set the bunny aside to accept the cider instead. You don’t look at the man at your side, but you can tell that he’s focused on Lohen now. They’re probably staring at each other, sizing each other up. The man at your side has at least half a foot over Lohen, and perhaps because of that, he ever so casually says, “My bad, man. I was just trying to say hi.”

Lohen smirks. “Yeah? And look how that went. This how you go around trying to make friends?”

“It usually doesn’t end like this.” You hear the man’s clothes rustle as he stands. “Didn’t mean to upset your girlfriend.”

“Eh, it’s alright. She and I need to meet more people anyway.” He grins, holding his hand out to Tod. “I’m Lohen.”

Your eyes widen. You’re watching Lohen’s face as he shakes hands with the other man, noticing how warm his expression looks. It’s certainly not the face of a man who swore he’d protect you, and certainly not the actions of one who swore he’d kill for you.

But you trust him. You trust him with your heart, your soul, your whole life; if he wants it.

You need to trust him.

“Bun and I were going to watch the fireworks,” Lohen says. “Wanna come with?”

He gathers all your bags on one arm before holding his hand out for his cider. You pass it to him, and the way his fingers brush yours makes you feel safe. With another swipe at your eyes, you smile at him.

“I know a really good spot,” Lohen says, his eyes trained on you. “You can practically see everything up there.”

He offers you his hand. You reach out and take it.

“Oh…nah,” Tod says, sounding awkward. “I’m not a fan of third-wheeling. Thanks, though.”

“You should come.” Lohen’s smile persists. “You won’t feel like a third-wheel at all—promise.”

Something feels off. Maybe Tod can sense it, or maybe he can’t, but either way, he asks, “You sure about that?”

“Uh-huh. You don’t mind, right, Bun?”

You do, but you shake your head like you don’t.

“It’s settled then. Come on, Tod, we’re friends now!” Lohen grins charmingly. “Isn't it normal for friends to go watch the fireworks together?”

“...Sure is,” he answers, reflecting Lohen’s grin with one of his own. “Guess I’ll bite.”

Lohen’s grin widens.

For some reason, that look gives you chills.

Lohen sets your bags at the base of a tree, which looms over the hill you stand upon. Your eyes run over the long, sturdy branches and chlorophyll green leaves, and when one falls, you reach your hand out to catch it.

“Give me one sec, Bun,” Lohen says. “I promise I’ll be right back.”

“What?” The leaf falls from your hand. You immediately stiffen and shake your head. “No, don’t go anywhere. I thought we were going to watch the fireworks.”

“We are,” he tells you. “I promise, this’ll be quick.”

That’s what he said last time. And look how that had ended up for you.

“Tod,” Lohen says. “Gotta ask you something. Bun’s a bit shy about it, so…mind walking with me for a sec?”

He’s winking at the sandy-haired man, and you don’t know why. Something about the way Tod’s eyes look you up and down before he gives Lohen a grin makes you feel nauseous. You don’t like the implication behind Lohen’s words, but at the same time, they sound awfully hollow.

“Be right back, pretty girl,” Lohen murmurs, kissing your cheek.

It saddens you, but you let him go.

Leaning against the white fence that separates the top of the hill from the city below, your fingers curl around the chipped edges. Lohen and Tod walk off, chatting about indiscernible things, and you’re left alone with your thoughts.

You keep them quiet.

The sky has been darkening gradually, but by the time the first firework blooms into the sky, its vibrant colors stand out against the black sky. The pop of the red sparks are deafening, but their beauty makes up for it all the same. Another firework launches into the sky with a sizzle, and when a plume of smoke ignites, it bursts into a dazzling series of blue with a loud bang!

Multicolored fireworks blast through Mond’s nighttime sky. They’re beautiful, but you wish Lohen was watching them with you too.

When the night drags on, when the show grows grander, your skin starts to turn cold. A lump forms in your throat, and you start nervously drumming your fingers along the fence. Flecks of white paint stick to your fingertips, peeling away to reveal the cheap wood beneath.

What’s taking him so long?

“Boo.”

When Lohen speaks directly into your ear, you scream. A firework pops at the same time, completely drowning out the sound of your voice. He laughs, curling an arm around your hips, and says, “Sorry, sorry. I couldn’t help it.”

Your eyes move to his vacant side. “Where’s Tod?”

Lohen smirks. “Don’t worry about it. I just gave him a piece of my mind, is all. Told him to fuck off.”

When his face turns fully to yours, you notice something splattered against his cheek. It’s a small dot of something, that drips down his face and over the mole under his eye—.

No. You don’t see anything. His face is clean. And even if Lohen’s words sound hollow, you make yourself believe them.

You need to believe them.

Lohen turns, showing you the left side of his face only. With a fond smile, he looks to the sky above and says, “It’s a good spot, isn’t it?”

Your arm wraps around his hips, holding him as tightly as he holds you. Nodding, you say, “It’s perfect.”

His hand strokes you up and down. As pink fireworks burst into streams of light, they bathe his face in their soft, rose color.

You’re leaning forward before you even realize it.

He turns his face.

Bang!

As the fireworks pop over your heads, your mouth opens to Lohen’s.

Bang!

His hands grip your hips. You feel the rumble of his moan, tickling your mouth as he kisses you back. Your hands rise to his face, pressing into his warm, soft cheeks, which are dry on both sides. Nothing smears against your palm, and even if it does, you don’t care.

Bang!

The way he leans into you, the pressure of his body combined with his kiss, sets your heart ablaze.

Bang!

Lohen’s lips withdraw from yours. A shimmering strand connects you both, until it bursts like the fireworks overhead.

Even under the deafening pops and sizzles, you know what he’s saying.

“I love you.”

Your fingers slot into his hair, and you bring his mouth back to yours.

It’s nearly midnight, and you’re in Lohen’s condo, naked before him with your hands pressed to the mattress beneath you. His eyes stare at your chest, a smile rising to his face as color blooms in his cheeks.

“I, uh…” He steps closer, placing a gentle hand to your knee. “I had a lot of fun today. Thanks for coming with me.”

The way his thumb brushes your skin gives you pleasurable chills. You smile back up at him, lifting his free hand to your cheek.

“I had a lot of fun too,” you tell him. “Thanks for inviting me.”

“Of course.”

The silence between you stretches on. You stare at him, he stares at you, and in an instant, you know what he’s thinking.

Slowly, you drag his hand from your face to your neck. You guide his palm across the flat of your chest before directing him to your breast. It doesn’t take much encouragement for him to start squeezing.

“Bun,” he says, his voice quiet. “For a while now, I’ve kinda been wondering about something. And if the answer’s no, that’s fine.”

Your heart skips a beat. Lohen gropes you beneath his palm, and your cunt throbs. You watch the curl of his fingers, your breath coming out shaky between your parted lips. When you look back up at him, you watch his throat bob.

“I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable,” he murmurs. “But I’ve just been wondering…if you want me to put it in this time?”

Your breath catches in your throat. You look down at his pelvis, where his dick is standing, his pink tip spewing precum already. It’s not a sight you haven’t seen before, but something about thinking of it inside of you, scares you.

But you trust him.

You need to—.

“I-if you want to,” you stammer, “then, yes.”

“I…only wanna do it if you want to,” he replies. “If you don’t, that’s fine.”

“I’m sorry,” you blurt. “It’s not that I don’t want to, I’ve just never…I’ve never done that before.”

His eyes widen. The way he squeezes your breast is so hard, it almost hurts.

“You’ve never…had sex?”

Your ears burn. You want to tell him that you’ve only ever used your mouth or your hands, but you don’t want to bring up the past. When Lohen leans in, his lips brushing the bridge of your eyebrow, you flinch and squeak, “I haven’t.”

Both of his hands lift to your face. He presses a kiss so chaste, but so firm to your forehead, it feels like there’s something sacred between you. His breath quivers when he says, “So I’d be your first.”

“My…my only.”

The way he looks at you carries a weight you’ve never seen from him before. Your face burns from the implication of your words, but you don’t regret them. As long as Lohen will have you, you don’t intend to look for companionship anywhere else. He’s all that matters to you now, and as far as you’re concerned, he’s all that matters for the foreseeable future.

Because he loves you. You’ve never known love, and you certainly don’t know how it’s supposed to feel, but this feels right.

It needs to feel right. It needs to feel right. It needs to feel—.

“Do…do you want to?” Lohen asks, pulling you out of your thoughts. “It’s not a big deal if you don’t. I can wait.”

No, no—you’re tired of making him wait. Your hands tremble, but you grip his wrists firmly when you say, “I want to.”

“Don’t feel pressured just because I asked—.”

“I want to,” you repeat, squeezing his arms in your hands. Without a shred of hesitation, you say, “I want you to fuck me, Lohen.”

“Oh,” he answers, his face turning red. He lets out a nervous laugh, saying, “You’ve never talked to me like that before.”

You smile. “You don’t like it?”

“I fuckin’ love it,” he laughs. “You’re sexy, Bun.”

When he presses his lips to yours, you laugh against him. He leans forward, you plop onto the mattress, and with his body on top of yours, he lavishes you with kisses. Your arms reach around his back, pulling him as close to you as you possibly can. You feel him against your mound, hard and leaking, throbbing every so often. It feels good, when his hips shift a little and he rubs against you. You’re sure that when it’s inside you, it’ll feel a thousand times better.

“I’ll warm you up first,” he murmurs into your neck. “Get you good and wet for me.”

His words alone can make you flow like a river. When he sucks at your neck, you let out a hot breath of air, turning your head to give him access. His kisses are gentle, and he reaches back for your legs, hiking them across the mattress.

“What works best for you?” he asks. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Th-this is fine,” you whisper.

“You can be a little selfish sometimes, you know? I really wanna pamper you tonight, Princess.”

The way he crawls back, his kissing lips descending down your throat, has your heart racing. You’re breathless when he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, and when he gives you a firm suck, you whine his name.

“You’ve already…you’ve already pampered me,” you pant out. “All those souvenirs…paying my bills…”

“That’s nothing,” he insists. Running his tongue along your nipple, watching you as he does, he hotly says, “It’s only what you deserve, Bun.”

“What I deserve…?”

In all honesty, you’ve never thought about affection that way. It’s always been a one-way street for you—pretend to like a guy and he might give you an extra tip. Smile at him during a handjob, show a flash of your tits, and maybe he’ll add five or six extra dollars. You’ve never thought about yourself, or what you needed. You certainly didn’t think about what you deserved.

If Lohen’s telling you that you deserve to be treated like this, then don’t you?

“Ah,” you moan, caught off guard by the way his teeth rub your nipple between them. “Th-that feels good.”

He brings a hand to your other breast, giving you a firm squeeze. Your back arches into his touch, into his hot mouth, and as he licks away at your skin, your legs begin to squirm around him. You can tell that you’re soaking, but it feels so good that you don’t want him to stop. He’s slow with you, loving with you, and for the first time in a long time, you feel like you deserve him.

Your fingers run through his hair. You grip hard, whimpering for him. Lohen continues to shower you with attention, not stopping once, not even for air. The way his breath puffs through his nose is hot and sharp, sending goosebumps across the skin of your chest. His hand plays with you, his mouth caresses you, and with a rock of your hips, you bump yourself into his stomach.

“Lohen,” you gasp. “I think that’s good enough.”

“Mm?” His eyes flick up to yours, burning red things that make your knees weak. “You’re ready for me?”

“Y-yeah,” you answer, your face burning. “Here, let’s…in my purse. Lube and condoms.”

“I thought you only had lube,” Lohen says, reaching over for your bag on the nightstand.

“I…when we started dating, I…” You trail off, hiding your mouth behind your palm. “I got some just in case.”

“Oh? So you’ve been thinking about this for a while.” He flashes you a toothy grin. “Naughty, naughty, Bun.”

You giggle. He withdraws a blue strip of condoms and a couple packets of lube, watching you as he rips them open. You sit up on your elbows, watching him with a fond smile.

Lohen holds up the small ring of plastic, raising an eyebrow at you. He points at his dick, and you laugh.

“I think you need some more sex ed,” you murmur.

“Oh, yeah? Why don’t you teach me something then?”

He holds it out to you, smirking. You shuffle to the edge of the bed, accepting it from him.

“I can fit my whole fist in here,” you tell him as you lower the rubber to his tip. “I know we can fit your dick in it.”

He lets out a snort. “Wonder what else we can fit my dick in.”

“Stop,” you giggle. “There you go. I told you it would work.”

You reach for the lube next. Just like that first night you ever put your hands on him, you squeeze it into your palm before running it along his shaft. Lohen’s lips curl into a coy smile, and when you rub your hand up and down, he stifles a grunt.

“Feels kinda weird,” he says. “I like it better without it.”

“If you’re putting your dick in me,” you purr, “you’re definitely not going without it, sir.”

“That’s fair. You’re not on birth control, right?”

“I don’t have sex, Lohen.”

“Hey, as far as I know, there’s lots of reasons that girls take birth control. It’s not always for a man.”

You laugh. “You’re such a feminist, Detective Lohen. So thoughtful.”

“You like that, don’t you?” he shoots back with a grin.

Admittedly, you do. Maybe a bit too much, because even though he hasn’t been touching you, your cunt’s still throbbing for him. He kisses your forehead, and in a low murmur says, “Lay back down.”

You do as he says. He clambers over you, sticking his fingers into another packet of lube. With a charming smile, he asks, “How many do you think you can handle?”

“Um,” you say, recalling the various nights you’ve pleasured yourself. “Honestly, you might be able to just put it in. I’ve, uh…I haven’t fucked anyone, but…I’ve used…dildos.”

You feel embarrassed when it comes out of your mouth. Lohen doesn’t look at you any differently, though.

“What did you think about?”

Right after he asks that, two of his fingers curl into you. You feel them stretch your insides, your hands flying to his shoulders. The base of his palm sits against your clit, and as he watches you expectantly, those fingers move in and out of you.

“N-nothing really,” you mutter. “I mean…just the general concept of…someone like you.”

“Someone like me?”

Those fingers of his curl deeper. Your teeth chew at your lower lip.

“Someone nice,” you whisper. “And handsome. That loves me.”

“Mm. Sounds like before you even met me…you were thinking of me.”

His fingers rub harder. You whimper, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“I was,” you whine. “And now I’m so happy. Because you love me.”

“Uh-huh,” he murmurs, his hot breath ghosting over your lips. “I love you more than anything, Bun.”

Your legs squirm again, and when he kisses you, you let out an unrestrained moan. Lohen’s fingers pull out of you, and with a light touch of his glans to your folds, he rubs you up and down.

“How about it?” he asks between kisses. “You ready for me, Bun?”

“Yes,” you gasp. “Put it in, Lohen. Put it—in.”

Your head leans back into the pillow. The stretch of his head, pushing you open, making you part for him, makes your legs flail around his hips. Lohen’s shushing you as he slowly presses forward, and when his lips kiss your cheek, you realize that you’re crying. There’s something euphoric about opening yourself for him like this, so good that you can’t help but bawl. Pain, pleasure, your overflowing affections for him—they all have you clawing at his shoulders like he’s trying to leave you, anchoring yourself into his skin so that he’ll never run away.

“Oh, my God,” you gasp, blinking your tear-blurred eyes. “Lohen, that feels so good.”

“Y-yeah,” he grunts, his face a deep shade of rose. “Bun, you’re…fuckin’ tight.”

He withdraws his hips, and you practically throw your lower body around him. With all the strength you can muster, you pull him back into you, and when his dick slaps into your weeping hole, you let out a satisfied whine.

“Sh-shit,” Lohen mumbles. “Wait, Bun, calm down. I don’t wanna…” His throat bobs. “I don’t wanna cum yet.”

The way his fingers claw into the sheets by your head, how his face is beet red like the first time you laid your hands on him—it’s all so stimulating, that you could almost cum with him. He slows the draw of his hips, you ease your leglock around him, and when Lohen’s mouth descends onto yours, you moan his name against his own tongue.

“You feel so good, pretty girl,” he whispers fiercely. “Fuck, this is just as good as I always thought it would be. No…maybe even better.”

“Lohen,” you whimper. “You make me feel so good.”

“Good,” he whispers back, pressing his hands to your cheeks. “It’s what you deserve, Princess.”

Your voice comes out disjointed, high-pitched, and breathy. You claw at his back, pull him forward once more with the curl of your legs. Lohen practically slams into you, and that sensation has you over the moon for him.

“Fuck,” he says, his voice rough. “Bunny, I love you. I wanna take care of you forever.”

“Kiss me,” you beg. “Please.”

He doesn’t make you wait. Just like the knight he proclaims himself to be, he never makes his lady wait. If he does, it’s only because he’s protecting her. Because he knows what’s best for both him and his liege.

You love him.

Lohen’s hips stop hard. His voice comes out strained, higher-pitched than it normally is.

“Fuck Bun,” he gasps. “Sorry, I’m…I’m fucking cumming.”

His eyes roll back, and your cunt throbs around him. With loud, desperate-sounding moans, Lohen cums in you, his body pressing down into yours. His hips jerk, like he’s trying to push it in, but the rubber that separates your womb from his tip won’t allow it. Regardless, that feeling, the rub of his girth against the base of your clit, even through the barrier of plastic, makes you whimper for him.

“God, you’re so pretty,” he whines. “You’re the love of my life, Bunny.”

He’s yours. You know it in your heart.

“Lohen,” you whimper, your eyes pressing shut. “Lohen, you…a little more, please—.”

When his hand reaches between your legs, you lean your head back and wail. He rubs your clit hard, maintaining the intensity as his dick remains within you. Your hole throbs and clenches, desperate for him to thrust again, but with that loving rub of his, your body knows no better. Gasping with tears flowing down your cheeks, you grab Lohen by the hair and cry.

“I really…!” you whimper, your body tensing with release. “I really…! Lohen, I really…!”

“Shh,” he whispers. “It’s okay.”

Fuck, you’re screaming for him. It’s so loud, and you’re so embarrassed, but for some reason, you can’t say those three simple words? He’s pouring his heart into you, making you feel like a goddess, and what do you have to say in return? You know you love him—you love him more than you love existing, more than you love breathing. With all he does for you, he deserves to know that.

“I l—.”

His lips press to yours. Your thoughts melt away under the heat of his breath, and with your hands pressed to his cheeks, you cry. Lohen’s hand is still moving, your hips are still flailing, and when you cum a second time, you bite his lip so hard that you taste blood.

He bites you back.

Fuck, does that hurt. But you’d be lying if you said it didn’t feel good.

You part from each other. The red stamp of your teeth mars Lohen’s lip, as you’re sure that his mars yours. The ring around his mouth, the ring around yours—they’re a perfect match, aren’t they?

Just like you and him.

You smile amidst your tears, letting out a laugh. Lohen laughs back before flopping on top of you. The way he kisses your face feels so tender, so intimate. You hug him so tight, you don’t know if his back or your arms will give out first.

“I love you, Bun,” he croons into your ear. “I promise I’ll never let anyone hurt you.” With a soft kiss to your face, he whispers, “I’ll always keep you safe, Bunny.”

You close your eyes and smile.

After all, you believe him.

You dream of Tohler. You dream of Allec. You dream of Tod. All three of them leer at you like wolves encroaching upon an isolated lamb. You’re chained to the ground by restraints you can’t fight, and when you feel the touch of Tohler’s hand on your thigh, you scream. Allec grabs your hair, Tod unfastens his belt, and you’re dribbling snot and tears down your face as it all unfolds.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Three shots. Three fireworks. They pop over your head, sparkling and shimmering, and by the time you look down, three men lay dead at your feet.

Your restraints are gone. Smoke trails out of the tip of Lohen’s silver revolver, like it’s the butt of a cigarette. It’s hot here, like the stuffy breakroom at the cabaret. You catch your reflection in the vanity mirror, and all the bulbs along its borders are dead, save one. It flickers, repeatedly thrusting your form in and out of darkness, only for you to eventually be obscured by Lohen’s back.

Even though you’re filthy; even though you’re dirty, sinful, full of shame; he cups your face in his hands and kisses you.

You wake up in tears.

Lohen’s shirt is clutched in your hand. With a shaky exhale, you realize he’s still here with you.

You bury your head back into his shoulder. Listening to the steady, slow beat of his heart, you stroke your palm across his chest.

“I love you,” you rasp out.

Then, your eyes fall closed.

if you made it this far, thank you! i hope you enjoyed! I plan to post Chapter 7 on 8/19! c: masterlist | fic masterlist

.ᐟ you wouldn’t say you were blatantly obvious about your crush—at least, not like how donna is with master diluc. yet, here you are, standing behind a pillar a short distance from the fifth company's training barracks. you watch the vice captain, completely giddy. some passerby made a comment, it’s like all you needed was a tail wagging continuously from all the quiet(?) squeals you were making…

.ᐟ truth be told, your taste is certainly questionable. how can you be part of the investigation team and not be smart enough to avoid getting tangled up with someone like him? at first, you were simply looking for madam philomena to ask about a trivial matter. the next thing you knew, you were stopped dead in your tracks. there stood lohen in front of the cadets—an apple in his hand and a smug look on his face that practically said, if you don't hit it, you'll regret it.

.ᐟ since all the knights of favonius are acquainted, lohen had naturally noticed you earlier while you were talking to herstal about paperwork and logistics. even before that, he had spotted you pacing back and forth in front of the fifth company's barracks. you literally stopped mid-sentence when lohen stepped right beside herstal. he smiled at you, tilting his head. "miss investigator! to what do we owe the pleasure?" and just like that, that day officially became the best day of your week.

.ᐟ what even made you like him? well… it could be anything, really. his charming smile, his princely fashion, the effortless confidence in how he carries himself, or those captivating eyes. maybe it's his beauty mark, his personality, or honestly, all of the above. it might even be the chaotic traits that leave everyone else baffled when you confess your crush is the fifth company's vice captain. (two of those baffled people being gunther and ursula).

.ᐟ "you’re delusional!" ursula had aggressively whispered to you. she was trying to be careful, yet somehow, she still ended up assigned to lohen’s grueling "special training" the very next day for reasons you couldn't quite fathom. gunther, on the other hand, was visibly sweating bullets when he heard your confession. he chose to look away, completely ignoring you just to stop himself from saying something he'd regret.

.ᐟ now now, lohen is certainly no fool. he is sharp when it comes to monster hunting and criminal investigations, and he is certainly aware of whatever affections you are throwing his way. so, would there be anything wrong if he teased you just a bit for his own entertainment? mind you — he knows exactly what he’s doing. as for whether or not he’s reciprocating your affection? well, that's for another day for you to find out. but who knows—maybe he just likes coaxing you a little bit closer every time, just like a kitty.

The only thing Chrollo would intentionally reveal is his disappointment—with you and your futile attempt at escape. It wouldn’t be genuine, of course. He’s only doing it because he knows the effects it’ll have on you. Depending on the circumstances—his mood at the time, or whether you’ve tried to escape before—he might use subtle threats to make it crystal fucking clear that there’s no escaping him. He tries his best to avoid violence of any kind with you, it's not something he enjoys or feels is necessary. He’d rather hint at the consequences of your actions—not just for you, but for your friends, your family, and anyone involved in your escape.

Chrollo strikes me as the type who would rather make someone fear what could happen than actually carry out a punishment. He might feel like that method provides the best results? Less disobedience and more compliance, without completely breaking someone? Who knows. 

Anywayssss. Your fear about being punished for trying to escape wouldn’t surprise Chrollo, he already expected that. But you trying to seduce him would be very surprising, he never expected that. He’d hide his surprise and confusion well, barely letting anything show—maybe just a brief change in his body language, but that's all. Considering the kind of man Chrollo is, he probably wouldn’t want you to know that you had actually managed to throw him off guard, and that definitely influenced his reaction. 

I’d imagine that Chrollo’s feelings for you would also play a part in how he’d react to the situation. He is attracted to you, both physically and emotionally, and you trying to seduce him would really test his limits. In his mind, he might be imagining fucking you right then and there, thinking of all the things he could do to you. But he knows better than to act solely on feelings, and prides himself on self-control. During your time together, Chrollo made sure he never crossed any lines with you, understanding the importance of appearing gentlemanly, composed, and caring. He knew that making you feel uncomfortable—more than necessary—would do little good, so he carefully maintained his image. As selfish as it sounds, he did it for himself more than he did it for you. 

Chrollo’s also very smart. It wouldn’t take long for him to realize that you’re probably only trying to seduce him so you can avoid being punished. He’s seen people do all sorts of things under the right amount of pressure, but this might be a first. The fact that you’d try to manipulate him—and in that specific way too—was amusing. But he wouldn’t stop you, no, he’d rather sit back and observe for a bit, probably contemplating how to deal with you. 

If Chrollo does decide to ‘entertain’ your attempts of seduction, it's because he wants to, not because you succeeded in seducing him. Maybe he’d play along because he wants to see just how far you’d go? Maybe he’s been feeling a little pent up lately, and this is the perfect opportunity to satisfy his needs? Either way, Chrollo never does anything without a purpose.

In this case, Chrollo would use the situation as an opportunity to teach you a lesson. Don’t expect much leniency from him. Running away was a betrayal, and that’s not something he’ll forget, or forgive easily. Still, he can’t help but feel slightly impressed with how you handled the situation. He knows you’re scared, but instead of giving into your fear—like he would’ve expected—you made a cunning move, attempting to manipulate him. And it might have worked, too, if you weren’t trying to manipulate him. But that tiny bit of respect you managed to gain doesn’t mean you’re off the hook from being punished.  

If Chrollo does decide to punish you, he wouldn’t be overly cruel with it. Fear can be a great motivator, but he wouldn’t overdo it. He doesn’t want to traumatize you, no, that would only cause more problems for him in the long run. Instead, he’d opt for something subtle and far more effective, something very intimate. Chrollo is no stranger to using unorthodox methods of punishment, and he wouldn’t hesitate in the slightest to employ them if they served his purpose. 

Chrollo would intentionally draw out the situation, allowing you to touch and kiss him, while using that sweet voice of yours to whisper some cock-hardening words into his ear. He’d be patient and play along with your game—calmly responding to your advances with some of his own—making you think that you’re winning, but you’re not, and you never will. 

He gives you just enough rope to hang yourself with. He’ll let you take the lead, at first. He’ll remain almost passive, his dark eyes tracking your every move, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. It’s a test. He’s giving you the rope, watching with detached curiosity to see how you’ll hang yourself with it. 

As you're whispering all that filthy shit in his ear, pressing your body against his, he doesn’t just passively take it. He actively rewards you. He plays along. He doesn’t just passively let you grope him. That would be too obvious. Chrollo is a master of performance. He commits to the role. 

As your hands tremble while unbuttoning his shirt, he’ll cover them with his own, steadying them. He’ll lean into your desperate kisses, meeting your frantic energy. It feels like acceptance, like he's being won over. He’ll let out a soft hum of approval, a low sound in his chest that vibrates against your lips, making you think, it’s actually working. He is doing the bare minimum to give you the maximum amount of false hope.

When you kiss his neck, a low groan rumbles in his chest. When your hand slips down to grope the front of his pants, his own hand comes up to grip your hip, pulling you closer. “Is this what you want?” he’ll murmur, voice like silk. “To be close to me like this?” He’s giving you positive reinforcement, at the bare min, meticulously crafting this illusion that you're actually getting to him. He wants you to feel like you’ve successfully manipulated Chrollo Lucilfer.

The flip. The goddamn switch. This is where it all changes. It happens when you’re at your most vulnerable—when he’s finally inside you, deep and warm. You’d be riding him, thinking you’ve won, that this is your escape from punishment—moaning his name, nails scratching down his chest, convinced your little seduction’s got him wrapped around your finger. 

No big dramatic moment, just a shift in his grip, his fingers suddenly clamping down on your waist to pin you in place, halting your movements mid-thrust. He’ll hold you still, fully impaled on him. You’re balancing on the edge, pussy clenching around him, so fucking close, and he just... stops. His eyes meet yours, that calm detachment back in full force, a smirk curling his lips as he says, casual as anything, “you didn’t really think I’d let you off that easy, did you?”

“Did you really think this would work?” He’ll ask, his hips giving a single, slow, thrust that’s devoid of any genuine feeling. He’ll start to move again, but the rhythm is all wrong. It’s too fast, too shallow, or too brutally deep, designed for his pleasure and your discomfort. He’ll watch your face, your desperate expression, and his lips will curl into a mild smirk. “You ran from me,” he’ll whisper, each word punctuated by a rough shove of his hips, rolling into you.“You betrayed my trust.” Thrust. “And you thought you could fuck your way out of the consequences?” Thrust. “How naive.” 

This is where the real cruelty comes in. He’s going to use your own body against you. He’ll fuck you—with his fingers, his mouth, his cock—and he will be an expert at it. He knows exactly how to drive you up, how to make your breath catch and your toes curl. He’ll pull out just enough to use his thumb to grind mercilessly against your clit while he fucks you. He’ll drive you to the absolute brink, your whole body convulsing, begging to come. You’ll be sobbing, pleading. And just as the wave is about to crash over you, he’ll stop everything. Completely. He’ll pull his thumb away, still his hips, and just hold you there, impaled and trembling, while the orgasm withers and dies inside you.

“Patience,” he’ll murmur, leaning down to kiss you sweetly, a horrifying contrast to the torment he’s forcing you to endure. He’ll do this over and over again. Bringing you to the brink, then snatching it away, until you’re sobbing, a desperate, incoherent mess, begging him to just let you come. He’ll let you recover for a moment before whispering, “let’s try that again,” and start the entire agonizing process over. Leaving you in a constant state of wired, overstimulated agony.

He overstimulates the fuck out of you after the edging, not letting up even when you finally cum, slamming into your oversensitive cunt until you’re writhing, tears streaming, body betraying you with orgasms that border on painful. 

even though his posture was lacking stability, beomgyu was the first one to speak. after a small moment passed after you walked in, his tone is nervous and filled with sorrow, “there was a notebook. one with a lot of information about portals.”

you lock eyes with the fairy once more before approaching him for an embrace, but instead of happily obliging like he usually would, he only winces and turns away.

“what information did it give us?” taehyun speaks from the kitchen, walking closer with a cup of water and some snacks to help ground beomgyu a bit more.

but he doesn’t reply. he couldn’t make another word without experiencing the moment once more. not doing so quietly encouraged you to continue on his behalf.

“portals can be man-made or natural, depending if destiny deems it worthy,” you recall, voice gentle as not to provoke anything painful for the mind fairy. “it’s a wild concept honestly. portals being created by destiny and all.”

“but that’s something that happened with us, is it not?” yeonjun butts in from the sofa. “none of our portals were made by us, and we just so happened to be in the right place at the right time.”

“correct,” you add, nodding slowly. “from what we saw, man-made ones are intentional portals that are made by some organizations called the fairy hunters and fairy keepers.”

“interesting… but what does this really tell us? we can’t make them by hand so we need the ones being made by destiny, right? how can we work with those in getting you back home?” yeonjun continues pressing on for more information, a slight confusion being written on his face.

all they have done for you is help you find your way home. but as you look toward beomgyu again, you feel as though all you have brought to them is stress and agony.

you’re filled with dread that anything more painful might occur. these five fairies mean a lot to you, and you’re constantly reminded about how much they care about you in return.

it makes the pain in your heart linger much harder.

“we could potentially recreate the same conditions as when they got here,” taehyun adds, handing beomgyu a basket of strawberries to eat. “same temperature, weather, etcetera. it would take a long while to recall and get it right, though. i’m sure that even if we do get the conditions right, if destiny does not allow, it has the possibility of not working.”

“me and yn came to the same conclusion.. about recreating the conditions. they said it was raining outside when they got transported through, didn’t you yn?” soobin sits down on the sofa next to the eldest. “so if we were to give it a chance, on the slightest possibility it could work, then we would have to wait until the rain comes.”

“now why would we do all of this in the rain? it could be dangerous, you know! the tides get higher when there’s a storm,” kai exclaims in slight fear from the door. “weather like that could harm us more than anything, soobin-hyung.”

soobin presses his lips together, “but what if it works, hyuka? we could get them home.”

“and what if it doesn’t?! what if this is all just some stupid mess that could lead to another one of us being traumatized or even worse, dead!”

the reality of kai’s statement brings everyone to a pause. it was a slight overreaction, but nonetheless a possible outcome with the conditions at hand.

sensing the tense atmosphere, the youngest breathes in through his nose and out from his mouth while gripping his star necklace tightly, “i like our little family of six, okay? i admit i am comfortable with where things are at now. i also know how much you want to get home, yn… i understand. but i just can’t shake the feeling of things going wrong, you know?”

“…i agree,” beomgyu speaks for the first time since the beginning of the conversation. “besides we don’t have much information about the water surrounding the island and of the conditions that brought you here in their entirety, yn.”

“but what if it does work?” you ask meekly, tears filling your own eyes as you struggle to decide on what to do. “i don’t care if i get hurt. i’m okay with that, as long as we try something… anything at this point.”

and despite most of the boys telling you how difficult the situation will be, how next to little everyone knows about how to get you home, a nagging feeling in your chest begins to arise. one that gives you a sense of urgency to leave.

not everyone can say that family is of most importance. a loyal, love-filled, and trustworthy relationship with those most close to you. but to huening kai, family is everything.

“i brought some flowers!” he beamed, dozens of beautiful flowers and foliage in his arm as he rushes to his sister’s side. “some of them i picked, and others were given to me by this lovely old lady nearby.”

bahiyyih beams in delight. her eyes growing wide at the color and size variety given by the messy bouquet, “did you give her your thanks?”

“of course i did,” the brother laughs gently, placing the flowers on the ground nearby his sister. “i told her how much you enjoy making those flower crowns and she just so happened to have a lot of them stockpiled from her gardening session. said something about the flowers blooming too fast for an old lady like her to handle.”

the sister giggles and reaches to look at some of the offerings, “i will definitely be making a wreath or something for her. does she live far?”

“definitely not. nearby the lake where we like to bathe.”

“perfect.”

love languages are those different forms of loving those around you, whether they be family or not. they consist of being in close proximity to the other like physical affection, or even giving and receiving affirming words from someone.

huening kai’s love language was gift giving. and he showed this with his sister more often than not. this came in the form of giving her flowers he picked during his stroll, sweet treats he bought from the market that morning, and books he’s borrowed from neighbors. anything that bahiyyih liked, she got.

family is built on love, is it not?

“so you know that merchant down by the hillside?” kai smiles goofily, clearly hiding something behind his back as he rocks on his heels waiting for his sister to respond.

“yes… what’s his name again?” bahiyyih doesn’t look up from the woven structure she is currently working on. “oh! jungwon, isn’t it?”

“yes, anyway. he finally had some books in stock this week! and i was able to snatch up a book on herbal med—”

“no way!” she screams as she rushes to grab the book from behind her brother’s back, not letting him even finish his sentence. “no way no way no way!”

kai laughs as he easily gives in and lets bahiyyih see the book he’s purchased for her, “i know how much you’ve been wanting to learn about medicine.”

“of all the things you have ever gotten me, kai. this one beats them all! thank you so so so much!” if her voice did not showcase how elated she was about receiving this book, the tears in her eyes definitely did.

and that is how kai nurtured his family. exploring the area nearby while looking for resources and always finding gifts to bring home to his sister. no matter the situation or circumstances they were in, the older brother always found a reason to see his sister smile.

it was a strong, loving familial bond between the two siblings. something so strong, nothing could ever break it down.

“sometimes when i lay at night, i think about that night… about how lucky i am still have you, oppa,” bahiyyih whispers under the moonlight with her brother next to her as they stare into the stars.

kai manages a small, knowing smile, “it’s not easy when memories flood your nightmares. i know, hiyyih.”

she only nods and leans her head against his shoulder, “i got you something. it’s nothing.. too extravagant or anything. and definitely nothing as meaningful as the gifts you’ve brought me.”

“a gift..? for me?” the brother whispers into her hair before pressing a gentle kiss onto her skull.

“mmm,” bahiyyih nods. “a friend of mine wanted to get a crown and didn’t have any coins as payment, so i agreed to a trade.”

as she finishes her sentence, the moonlight flickers onto a piece of jewelry in her hand. jewelry was definitely a rare find in their small village, and one look at the necklace with a star pendant, kai deemed it uniquely beautiful.

he reaches for the necklace gently, as if scared to ruin it to pieces with his unruly strength, “it’s so beautiful, hiyyih.”

she helps him put it on and smiles, “now when you’re out late at night exploring for resources for us, you can look at the necklace and still feel at home.”

“what do you mean you don’t care if you get hurt?” taehyun rises from his spot next to beomgyu, a hint of confusion and anger lingering on his face and tone of voice. “how can you say something like that, yn? we’re trying our best to get you home safely, you can’t disregard that no matter how you feel.”

you hesitate for a moment before replying, “i am not trying to disregard the care you have for me. i understand you want me safe. but i need to get home. i can’t wait any longer if it means bringing all of you pain.”

the heaviness in your heart becomes stronger despite your emotions being let out into the open, “i don’t like how much stress i’ve caused here. i want to get home.”

“okay, i understand what you mean, yn. but the point isn’t about getting you there safely or not,” yeonjun stands up from the sofa this time, eyebrows furrowed. “it is about getting you there to begin with. we are not even sure if our theories are correct. they are just speculation. what if you do get injured and it was all for nothing?”

“then at least we tried something!” you yell, nearly interrupting the fairy in front of you.

that brings another silence into the room.

your sudden desperation to leave was alarming to everyone. you seemed happy here and despite what occurred with beomgyu, none of the boys really understood why you needed to leave so urgently.

“this isn’t just about getting home so we don’t get hurt, isn’t it?” beomgyu speaks up and softly at that, finally getting on his feet to approach you. “talk to us, yn. tell us the real reason you feel so desperate to return to your home in these uncertain conditions.”

you swallow thickly in attempt to down the lump that is stuck in your throat, your eyes avoiding the five pairs staring straight at you awaiting a response. but nothing comes from your mouth. that sense of urgency is so clear within the room, but no one senses your next actions.

instead of leaning onto the boys who have shown you nothing but kindness and admiration, you run out the door.

“yn!”

you don’t turn back to see who reacts first. you can’t stomach the pain this impulse decision could cause and you try to convince yourself that you don’t care who follows after you.

“no... as i have iterated several times, getting this file submitted is an urgent matter and no time should be wasted on it any longer.”

phone call after phone call after phone call. that’s all preschool-aged you would see your father doing for most of every day you lived. phone calls you didn’t quite understand. phone calls you associated with your father ignoring you for a very long while.

all you wanted to do was see if your father was free to play, but with any phone call of his, you were met with a raised finger and a close of a door.

“yes, i indeed have the book in my hands. i thought there were several copies of it, why does the association need mine in particular?”

even behind closed doors you could still hear the phone calls at hand. these conversations were never quiet, as if your father did not care of what you could hear, especially with you at that age.

of course, as your grew older, he was more discreet about his job and less open about his phone calls.

“look, i do not mind giving access to my knowledge or to any of the classified information i have acquired. but i would really appreciate if i was told what for.”

preschool-aged you didn’t understand some of the words during these phone calls— words like ‘classified’ or ‘association’. all you really wanted to do was to play with your father.

so you sat right next to the door like you always do, in hopes that the phone call would end and the door would open up before the pretend tea got too cold for everyone to enjoy.

“you want access to my child’s dna? did i hear that correctly? i apologize, sir, but my child is not even of age yet. i understand that it is standard protocol for all children of fairy hunters, but they are not even 5 years of age. what could possibly be needed for someone so young?”

you smile happily as the warm teddy bear sits on your lap, you singing songs to it to drown out any of the anger and stress that blossomed from your father’s phone calls.

singing songs to your toys was your second favorite play activity, just behind the tea party you couldn’t wait to enjoy.

“…alright. i suppose the tracking situation has helped me in the past and could help yn eventually. it is also useful for me in case something goes awry. i’ll accept these circumstances as long as you don’t make it painful for them, you hear me?”

yeonjun with those stupidly kind eyes and a cute mole underneath one. the changling who saw you at your worst and held you when you needed it most. the man who stayed up for hours on end to find even a sliver of evidence that could help you get home. with his stupid words of encouragement and stupid touches of admiration.

soobin with his stupidly cute smile and beautifully toned skin. with his amazing way with the animals on the island. the man has been nothing but home to you since you arrived. with his stupidest soft lips that make you crave more of his attention. and his easy conversations that makes you want to dive into deeper ones.

beomgyu with his stupid dependence on you that you can’t help but feel so utterly loving towards. the man who has seen through all your emotions and worked so hard to ground you in times that you needed it most. the one who sacrificed so much just to get one inch of information.

taehyun with his knowledgeable mind and stupid, but honest way with words. the fairy who has shown you forgiveness despite you being so stubborn against. the man with such protectiveness over you, that you can’t help but just want to be with him until eternity. with his stupid love for journals and diaries that make you want to scream in awe.

and kai. sweet sweet kai with his faith in family and love. with his stupid words that make you feel like you finally belong somewhere when all you’ve known was being an outsider. the man who has silently kept you at bay this entire time and quietly watched you under the moonlight as a protector.

it’s so stupid. so very stupid how much you love them.

you love them and you admit it to yourself as rain pools into the mud your feet has been trudging against since you left the fairies’ home. your eyes sting from the mix of tears and rainwater, but you push on.

the cards dealt to your hands was nothing you had ever dreamed about. never would you have imagined yourself on a remote island with no where to go and no way home. never would you have imagined yourself near any sort of magical creature. and never would you have imagined yourself in love with five different men who’ve shown you how much it means to care for someone.

you couldn’t bear to confess this to them and the sense of urgency to leave only increases as you get closer and closer to the sanded beach.

it was true that you didn’t care about getting hurt. you did not care if it was too soon to set sail to a destination you had no idea of. and with everything wrong that has ever happened in your life, the sense of urgency was just you wanting to run away from the truth yet again.

you wanted to leave this stupid life on this island with the five beautiful and amazing men that you’ve grown to love.

step. step. step.

the squelching sound of the mud dies down and is replaced with soft steps in wet sand. whether or not the boat is ready is no matter to you as you grab the paddles laying next to where the forest meets the sand.

“yn!”

they continue to call for you, continue to reach for you when you so desperately need them to stop.

you can’t love them. you just can’t.

everything always seems to go wrong, which is why you increase the rate of your steps towards the boat.

they were a perfect family before you stepped in and began to induce stress and trauma. how could you want to stay in a place you did not clearly belong?

you weren’t a gentle fairy like them. you were human.

a fairy hunter’s child.

a monster.

an outsider.

a murderer.

these adjectives to describe you loom over your head and pound into your brain as you finally reach the boat. your breath is heavy and the combination of tears and rain only begin to fill your eyes even more.

the weather seems to increase in intensity as what was just a mere raincloud is now a thunderstorm. you took this as a sign to work even more quicker. despite knowing you leaving would hurt the boys, staying here any longer that could cause them more hurt was something you can’t handle the thought of.

you wanted to take your chances on this theory working.

“yn!” they call for you again, but you don’t listen.

the rate of your heart increases and you begin to lose feeling in your limbs with the coldness of the rain and wind. despite this, you manage to lock the paddles in place.

it was perfect. how everything was working out so well for you to finally leave this place. the boat seemed ready, the boys too far to stop you, and the rain not ceasing. but as you turn around to face the ocean, you see it receding into itself, a telltale sign of high tides to come.

“high tides, yn! high tides! get out of there!” yeonjun screams, but it’s no use.

by the time you have processed what was happening, the tide rushes in faster than you’re able to make it off the boat. it floods the entirety of it and more, causing the boat to shatter against its strength.

the sudden presence of the wave gives you no time to prepare for breathing, and your lungs feel pain as water fills them with each watery breath you accidentally take.

it was like destiny was keeping you here on the island. for what reason, you didn’t know and you didn’t care as you weakly cough out any water still left in your lungs. your vision blurred and you attempted to crawl to safety where the boys lingered, reaching your hand out to one of them.

any of them.

you cough out more water and the blurred figures in front of you still as you try to breathe in more oxygen. unable to make out all five of them, you solely focus on the one closest to you.

beomgyu is it? you can’t tell.

your breathing continues to heave, the thunderstorm above all of you making it difficult to supply your lungs with precious oxygen.

“b-beomie!” you call out and as you do so, you see his eyes widen large and his body stops moving closer to you.

it is then when a sharp pain fills your temple and all you see is black.

Right?

He’s counting down the days immediately. Obsessively checking all your social media accounts for updates as if you were the idol instead, wondering whether or not you’d come to see him.

He’s literally kicking his feet and squealing. Of course you would. You love him too, don’t you? Not in the way he loves you, but you’d get there, once you meet him and speak to him in person. He just knows it.

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄!𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐋 who goes crazy with his skincare and his haircare and his workouts and his diet — all in preparation for the big day. How could he ever face you if he doesn’t look perfect? He’d simply die of shame.

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄!𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐋 who doesn’t sleep a wink the night before the event. His racing thoughts keep him up, thousands upon thousands of imagined scenarios flitting throughout his head. What if he confessed to you then and there? Prostrated himself at your feet? What if he ‘accidentally’ bumped into you in the hallway? Orchestrated one of those “meet-cute”s that you love so much? The possibilities were endless.

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄!𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐋 who is an anxious mess during the event itself. He’s constantly glancing at the queue, hoping to catch a glimpse of you, completely neglecting the other fans sitting in front of him at the moment. His body is running on autopilot — smile unwavering, responses warm and polite — but his attention is solely fixed on finding you.

When you walk through those doors and catch his eye, he starts smiling so hard he genuinely looks as if he’s gone insane. He has a pretty face though, so he looks good no matter what he does. As you shuffle through the queue, he never takes his eyes off of you, not even once. He wonders if you noticed. You probably did, from the way you kept glancing back to look at him.

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄!𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐋 whose hands can’t stop shaking when it’s finally your turn to speak to him. His signature is so jerky, and his script looks close to illegible as he hastily scrawls his number underneath his name.

However, you don’t notice, for the rest of his demeanor is flawless, and you are too preoccupied with making small talk with him to pay attention to what he’s doing with his hands. You hardly have the time to exchange three sentences with him before you have to make space for the next fan, anyway.

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄!𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐋 whose anxiety goes into overdrive. What if you can’t read his writing? What if you think it was a joke? What if you don’t text him? What if you think he’s weird? Did he act too stiffly? Were his responses normal enough? Was his smile too creepy? Did he look too eager? What if, what if what if —

He’s literally going insane. He can’t even pull out his phone and check your posts to see your true thoughts about him right now. He’s dying. He’s drowning. Is this what suffocating feels like? There’s bile clawing up his throat, poison surging through his veins —

He shoots to his feet, the chair clattering to the floor behind him. Excusing himself, he says he isn’t feeling too well. He bolts out of the convention hall.

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄!𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐋 who runs and runs and runs — until he runs into you.

You’re already in the parking lot, halfway to your car, and the resulting scene could come straight out of a rom-com.

“Wait!” he calls. It comes out sharp. Desperate. “Y/N!”

You turn around. Brows raising high the moment you realise who it is.

He scrambles up to you breathlessly, the mask of ‘perfection’ he put on as an idol entirely shattered. Hair clings to his sweat-slicked skin, and even with all the makeup he has on, a faint blush peeks through.

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄!𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐋 whose mind goes blank when he finally gets the chance to speak to you freely. Every scenario he had imagined, every speech he had rehearsed, every witty one liner he had planned to say... All of it, gone.

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄!𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐋 who has a grand total of zero social skills. He started training as an idol at a really, really young age — even dropped out of school to pursue this line of work — and thus has had no chance to interact with other people outside of his group and his bosses. When he is not “an idol”, he is really no one at all.

You blink. He blinks.

He raises a trembling hand to gesture at the signed album in your arms. “I, uhm... My number — You...?”

His face burns with crimson embarrassment. How very eloquent.

“Oh!” you say. You laugh, and it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard in his life. “I was wondering about that. Do you, ah, want to erase it or something...?”

His response comes out much more passionately than he had intended to be. “No! I — I mean, it’s... for you. It’s for you.”

“Oh,” you say, again.

The silence stretches on between the two of you. A bead of sweat rolls down his forehead.

He gulps so audibly he swears it echoes throughout the parking lot.

“Text me? Please...?”

Surprise flashes across your face, before a shy smile, like dawnlight peeking through the clouds, blooms. His heart stutters.

“Sure. Is later alright? I have to get going now...”

“You could give me your number instead!” he offers quickly, stumbling over the words. “So I — Just in case you forget.”

“Ah, sure...!”

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄!𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐋 who doesn’t hear a thing while he’s getting chewed out by his manager. Head filled to the brim with thoughts about you. Fingers twitching, dying to unlock his phone so he can text you. He’s an addict at this point, addicted to the drug that is your attention.

sorority x fem reader !

-the girls love to be cute! pink and soft colors, makeup, being sweet and loving.. they're lovely if you ignore their questionable behavior towards you.

-they like to dress you up, see you in their clothes looking pretty. they'll gather in a room, clapping and giggling as you show off outfits that they put together for you.

-they also love to use their makeup on you!! (let's pretend for the sake of fiction that sharing makeup is not unhygienic) dusting you cheeks with all shades of blush, practicing looks on you, and kissing you all over with their lipstick! just to check if it's kiss proof, totally.

-if you're not big on makeup, clothes, or a little more tomboyish, they're cool with that. you'll still get smothered in lipstick when they kiss you and they'll buy you loads of clothes that are to your taste <3

-i already said it but they can't take their lips off you. they love you so much they get cuteness aggression and try to bite you. even outside of sex, they leave you marked up.

-if someone outside of the sorority or fraternity hits on you or is into you, they get territorial. they'll just bully the person until they don't even look at you. if they're angry enough, they'll just do something like cutting the brake lines in their car or get them kicked out of the school (they're worse to than the boys when it comes to that)

-they're very cuddly and physically affectionate. spooning in bed, cuddle piles in one their oversized beds, constant hugs.. if you're uncomfortable with physical touch, they just want to be near you. just sleeping next to you, walking close to you, doing the things you enjoy with you. it all sums up to wanting to take your presence in as much as possible.

nsfw ahead !

-they're very sweet, but in the way that they'll do pretty much whatever you want. you want it rough? okay. gentle? of course. you want multiple of them or just one of them? they're cool with that. they don't care because they just like to see and feel your body.

-they're all foreplay pros. getting you worked up, finding your erogenous zones, playing with your tits and kissing you all over. sometimes they stretch it out just to here you beg for them to fuck you.

-they love to scissor. like, they reach pure ecstasy squirting with their clit rubbing all between your legs. they don't mind how, holding your legs up and using you for their pleasure, or letting you hump them while they claw at your thighs.

-so much pussy eating too. making you sit on their face, putting you in missionary while they put their lips to your cunt. sometimes they like to have two of them working between your legs, one sucking on your bud while the other fucks your hole with her tongue. they also love when you eat them out!! they'll grab your head and grind on your mouth and nose because it just feels so good to them.

-expect toys. double sided dildos (they have a lot of weird dildos), strap ons, lots of vibrators, ropes and handcuffs. one of their favorite things to do is tie your hands up and stick a vibrator in your panties and just watching while you cum and whine.

-if you're a tgirl who hasn't had bottom surgery, they love your body just as much as they would without the dick <3 they love to ride you and use bullet vibrators on your tip. they love when you're hard, and they see your bulge through your panties, or the tip of your cock sticking out of the top of your undies. they'll also do lots of anal if you're up for it!

-they love to go multiple rounds. everyone cums at least 3 times. they love to make messes. looking at you covered in their slick just turns them on even more.. sigh.

fraternity x male reader !

-the boys are very obsessive. most of them are a little dumb, but they still have constant eyes on you. they don't have glorious plans or thoughtful gifts the way the girls do, but they're still protective.

-they're willing to lock you in a room and make you a pet, but they also like how happy you are when you're free </3 they'd only lock you up if you broke up with them, so they just need to keep you happy!!!

-very desperate, like dogs. they're always excited to see you happy, to be around you, to do things for you and be around you.

-they love to show you off!! not in a trophy way, but in a "look at my awesome fucking boyfriend that I'm so lucky to have" way. some them cried when you accepted them, so they want everyone to know that you're theirs, and they're yours.

-they buy you super expensive gifts. they don't tend to be observant, so you a lot of the time you just tell them what you do and don't like. they're trying to learn to be more thoughtful, they literally take notes about you and thinks you like.

-lovesss to see you in their clothes. in their hoodies, shirts, pants, even their boxers (clean ofc). you could be wearing a full outfit and they'll strip you just to put you in their clothes.

-if you're a guy who is more "feminine" and likes cuter things, they're good with that. they have a long history of partners and have been with all sorts of people. they'll buy you makeup if you like that, cute clothes. it might be a stereotype for frat boys to be super masculine and even bigoted but these guys are super chill and normal :D

nsfw ahead !

-since they're so desperate, they manage to completely prep you and rile you up sometimes, only remembering when tell them. I mean, unless you like it with no prep, you'll have remind them if they get too horny

-they really like to overstimulate and edge you. like, putting a vibe to your prostate just to turn it off when your legs start to shake. or rubbing your tip hard and fast and ruining your orgasm. and then they have the audacity to giggle and kiss you after..

-can't get their mouths off you. deepthroating your cock, eyes rolling back when they take you down their throat. or shoving their tongues in your asshole. you're always covered in marks everywhere after.

-they love when you get rough, riding them with your boxers shoved in their mouth and all they can do is groan into the fabric and cry. or when you fuck them, they'd bounce on it all day if you told them to.

-if you're a guy with a pussy, that's sick too. they like to finger you really rough and make you squirt. if they don't get it the first time, they'll just rougher again until they do. they'd definitely like to try having all three of your holes fucked, if you want that. they also don't mind if you use a strap on, they literally will do anything to make you happy in bed.

-they go crazy when you ask for rough. they really go above and beyond, the bed will be squeaking and creaking n all that. they'll shove their fingers in your mouth, scoffing when they feel your teeth and tongue.

-you often catch them jerking off or even playing with their holes with your underwear or clothes. but at least they wash them after.

you can’t hear him, and you don’t really want to - but instinct dictates you remove an airpod and turn to him politely because maybe once he’s said his piece he’ll leave you alone? it’s wishful thinking, but you’re a little buzzed, and that’s always turned you into a pseudo-optimist. 

the weird hot guy points to your phone, playing some shitty local true crime podcast because your head was hurting too much to listen to any music. it’s some dark shit, and since you still have one airpod in, you’re able to listen to the podcast host describe the morbid details the bodies were found in. not too far from here, you realise absently. 

“are you a fan?” he asks, gesturing again to your phone. 

god, where the fuck is your uber driver? “erm, sure.” 

“cute,” he smiles, and he looks good. you would have asked him to come home with you if he weren’t so weird. “do you have a favourite?”

“sorry?”

he sighs dramatically, “that one wasn’t my best work, so i was wondering if you had a favourite.”

“a favourite episode?” you ask, to which he nods. “probably not, sorry.”

“aww. that makes me sad, sugar. maybe you’ll like the next one more.” you watch him reach out, stunned to simply stand there, reaction time slowed by the drinks when he taps the side of your face twice, before briefly pinching your cheek. “they’ve all been dedicated to you, but i’ll make sure this one’s special.”

“the fuck?” you slap his hand away, but he seems otherwise undeterred, only laughing at your reaction. 

“sorry, sorry, you’re just so adorable. i’ll leave you alone now, sweetness.”

as if on cue, your uber finally pulls up to the kerbside, and you almost about jump inside, clicking the door locked behind you. from behind the safety of the car window, it’s easier to see him entirely. as the car pulls away, the man blows you a kiss, still apparently fucking merry from earlier. 

you slink down in your seat, feeling physically sick for some strange reason. 

christ, is this really the sort of person you’re attracting? you need to do some crazy inner work, your prospects are looking fucking dire. 

-

surprise, surprise. it’s another friday night where you’ve found yourself surrounded by people you don’t really like. 

it’s one of those dimly lit restaurants where the menu doesn’t have any prices on it so you’re forced to make the cheap salad you ordered last the entire three hours. one of the people you can tolerate slightly more than the others mentions noting you left early last week and only now, six days later, wants to check up on if everything is okay. you stab your fork into some lettuce and force yourself to smile - “wasn’t feeling well,” you say, in lieu of yeah, about that, some random freak just wouldn’t leave me alone. 

with the social pleasantry over, the conversation immediately shifts away to something else. you wonder if you’re obnoxious for how you think of the people around you and that to an untrained eye there really is no difference between you and them, seeing as you’re sat on their fucking table but the thought of that offends your individuality complex and so you turn to your phone instead for a more palatable distraction. 

you think back to the guy from last week, absently scrolling through social media. it’s hard to imagine someone like him sitting in a place like this. the thought of it seems absurd, and almost makes you laugh.

that’s when you see the news.

body of young local social media star found in macabre display.

the twenty four year old, most known for running a longstanding local ‘true crime’ podcast was discovered at home by a group of concerned friends forcing their way inside. prior to law enforcement’s presence at the scene, a series of photos had already been posted on interest groups and local forums the victim was known to frequent. originally posted at what officials estimate to be hours after the time of death, the images were originally captioned: ‘something special, just like i said sugar.’ authorities have since struck down the further circulation of these offensive images, and are urging anyone with information on the original poster to come forward. the investigation’s ongoing efforts are looking into determining whether both the murder and display were intended to be for a specific audience—

you click off the news, a few quick swipes landing you on a local forum. it’s all anyone can talk about. you swipe through the comments, and there are hundreds upon hundreds of them, feeling strangely very very calm as you force yourself to read through them. 

> his murder feels like a distraction. the local police department … (read more) > lul i nvr liked that guy serves him right > have some fucking shame, he’s a victim??? fuck you and … (read more) > yeah, i knew him irl. dude was chill. he didn’t deserve it. > omfg guys im terrified to leave my house now </3 > do you think the killer was someone he’d made … (read more) > add me on telegram for the full photos. pm only > is uncensored? > what the fck he looks like he’s been turned inside out <@_@> > because he has.

the clinking of the cutlery in the background of the restaurant thins to silence, and all you can hear is a faint buzzing in your head, almost like white noise. you shut your phone off, setting it down on the table right next to your place. your chair scrapes against the floor, but nobody at the table questions it when you stand up to leave. nobody even looks your way as you head to the bathroom. 

you wash your face, hoping the cold water will bring you back down from wherever you are, but it doesn’t really work. you stand in front of the mirror and stare at yourself for a bit, wondering if you’re going crazy. maybe you are - maybe because you were buzzed, your mind can’t really recall exactly what was said. you dry your face off with a paper towel, trying to reconstruct the exact conversation you had. you push the bathroom door open, heading back inside; it was only six days ago, surely you remember what he said? what he called you? the door swings closed behind you, and it comes to you then, the only word you can make out in the otherwise deafening silence—

“sugar.”

the word flashes in your mind as the caption of a photo you’ve never seen, but one that you can imagine nonetheless. 

“hi, sweetness.” you turn very slowly, to look over your shoulder - there, standing right by the bathroom door just as he was the first time you had seen him, with the very same smile. “did you miss me? ‘cuz you don’t know how badly i missed you.” you’re completely still, couldn’t move even if you wanted to when he steps closer, once more, and pulls you into a crushing hug.

“i thought of you the entire time, y’know.” you want someone to help you, but everyone flitters past, uncaring. assuming that the man holding on to you so lovingly must be your man. “i wanted this one to be special.” the man breathes you in shamelessly, his arms pressing against your back. he laughs then, pulling at your cheeks.

HIS NAME had been Alaric.

Poor, innocent Alaric who had cried and begged for you to spare him. Twenty four year old Alaric who was three years younger than you, who had a whole life ahead of him to lead. His poor sister who had wept piteously when the newspapers spoke of his death; when they put in the details — a suicidal event; falling from a balcony; no, there were no security cameras, and multiple cuts on the deceased’s arms with a history of depressive episodes — and his poor father who had roamed around the streets, bottle in the hand. A string of feverish words had left his mouth in a daze; why, why, why my young son.

You had smiled at first, thinking of the way Alaric’s warmth had left your hands. His blood that had stained your skin, reassuring and sticky in a way that made your cheeks blush. You had caressed his skin as he had twitched, looking at you like you were a monster.

“How dare you.” You had spoke so softly, so sweetly. Two days ago you had caught him with another woman. “I gave you everything.”

“In hindsight, you stalked me,” he had moaned in pain, the clockwork of death ticking closer, “You ruined my life! I never should have agreed to go out with you!”

His hand had tried to slap you, but because of how weak he was — an endearing trait, you thought with amusement — it resembled an oscillating pendulum instead, moving back and forth uselessly. His tone, redolent of desperation and anger, made you laugh merrily; it was the most emotion he had showed you in a while.

“Your life has always been mine,” you had cooed, “you are mine.”

And you hadn’t even — murdered Alaric. You had merely guided him slowly; he had been the one to kill himself, had he not, staring at you with such acrimony and hostility that your heart had skipped a beat. He had rushed to the balcony feverishly, shaking his head, spewing dirty vulgarities at you. They were melodious words to your ears; soft, mellifluous. You had listened, mesmerised.

“Go on, jump,” you had murmured sweetly. You thought he wouldn’t have done so, because dear, pitiful Alaric had been so rebellious in your relationship with him, refusing to do your bidding. He had all this strange paroxysms of weeping, weird times where you would wish to help him but he would merely break down or howl. Ah, the mystery of human minds: Alaric never seemed to understand your efforts.

But he did. At twenty four, right before your eyes, Alaric had stared straight into your eyes, filled with roaring, beautiful anger; and his body had toppled right over the edge.

And you had watched it deadly, in veneration and reverence; that thump sound that followed had been godly.

**

Over the course of a few days that feeling had died, turning insipid and tasteless. You thought of Alaric, who you had goaded into dying. Essentially, you were a murderer. Essentially, you were evil.

You thought of Alaric’s bright laughter. The sallow complexion he had following the days you had become his boyfriend.your breaths coalescing.

Pity, pity, pity.

This empty feeling must be grief, you thought. You were never that good with emotions, naming them after poring over textbooks. Doctors had said you would never understand them, but Alaric had been you understand. Your feelings with him must have been love.

And now there were perforations in your soul. You had longed for the sublime; for the peaceful, tranquil feeling you had gotten when you had let love corrupt you. When you had allowed its brutal nature to swallow you whole.

What did people do when they grieved? You searched it up online. They went to psychiatric hospitals, they went to therapy. You thought those were fancy words for the doctor. You stumbled upon posts explaining how to deal with insurmountable grief and read countless aching stories of people who lost their loved ones in freak car accidents, who lost their husbands and wives and mothers and fathers from old age, from cancer, from brain aneurysms that struck one day have never gave them mercy.

Not one of them had murdered their loved one. Online forums and posts are not helping, you thought, as you shut your laptop down. You clicked your tongue, tapping your table listlessly.

A doctor. A doctor would be the cure. Yes, that would work.

**

HIS NAME was Joseph. You found him on the internet, under glowing reviews that spoke of his honeyed tongue, of how readily he had helped them; of how he was so charming, so gentle. You had studied his profile, deciding that he would do just fine. The expensive sessions were nothing to you; you weren’t particularly rich, but you didn’t have a desire to save money. Life was fickle, and you went about it as you pleased. You didn’t eat much, choosing to opt for a box of cigarettes and perhaps an apple or two. The juices would haemorrhage your tongue, and you would frown in displeasure.

“Expunge this sadness within me,” you had told Joseph during the first meeting with him. He was tall, well built, had brown hair swept into a clean, tidy hairstyle. His features were beautifully handsome, and you suspected they had helped with the numerous of illuminating reviews.

“You say you’re grieving,” Joseph said calmly, studying you with intelligent, thoughtful eyes. “When did the deceased die?”

You thought long and hard. His spirit had died a while ago, but his body had died about two weeks ago. Or was it three? Or four? You couldn’t remember. All you could feel were your feelings, raw and ambivalent, bubbling within you.

“Maybe four weeks ago?” You guessed.

“You don’t know?” He asked, curious.

“Not really,” you shrugged easily. “I saw online that grief does that to someone. Messes with you. Alaric was so precious,” you sighed.

The vestiges of his name lingered in your tongue. It felt bitter. Awful. You frowned again, and your breath rattled.

“Oh, Alaric,” Joseph spoke slowly, “he was my patient. Surely you don’t mean Alaric Rivers?”

“I do.”

“What a small world,” he had smiled pleasantly. “The man you spoke of visited for me for reasons related to depression.”

“Isn’t there a clause for confidentiality?” You asked, mystified, and also rather surprised at this coincidence.

“My patient is dead,” Joseph chuckled.

You thought he was a light hearted doctor. Acquaintances had rushed to wish you condolences, all viewing you cautiously like you were a time bomb about to go off. They told you that they were there for you and they were so sorry and they knew loss could be incredibly hard on an individual — but Joseph did none of those. It was like he had seen death in its very essence; everlasting, forever. It was like he had ripped mortality open and had seen its finite, fickle nature.

You decided he was a doctor that was good. You could rely on him. You did like how he laughed at it, just like how you had smiled so widely when Alaric had first jumped off the building. Who could blame you? Alaric had always been disobedient — and then he had went on to jump. Was there not a touch of mirth in the situation?

At least the doctor could understand!

“I thought it was a coincidence at first, when you said your name was Y/n,” Joseph said, “Alaric mentioned you. You must be the esteemed boyfriend.”

“He talked about me?” You asked, pleased.

“Of course.”

“What did he say?” You asked eagerly, the words tumbling out of your breath, “tell me, tell me!”

Joseph’s eyes softened, and he laughed. “That’s for another day.”

After the session, you booked another.

This man was useful. This man was one of the real doctors, not the ones who prescribed you pills and medicine that only made you throw up.

This man would help you eviscerate the sadness within you. Oh, right. The correct term would be grief.

**

In the next session, Joseph told you that Alaric said that you were an incredible boyfriend. That you clearly adored him.

You nodded. Joseph spoke the truth; you had loved him so dearly. You had gone so far so as to break his legs so Alaric didn’t need to go for that work event he didn’t want to go for, right?

Alaric had always been so ungrateful.

**

“You are one of the most intriguing patients I’ve ever had,” Joseph smiled. He did a lot of those, but they varied. Some were light, charming. The ones that made the nurses at the front desk giggle and fall over their feet. Most were unsettling, but you liked them those were genuine.

This was session six. The grief was leaving you. You thought of Alaric with fondness, and consoled yourself with the fact that he had loved you back. That was what Joseph had said. Doctors could not lie to their patients. Alaric had been swathed in depression and sadness; of course he would jump. Maybe you weren’t a murderer, after all. These sessions really were working; you were grateful to Joseph for everything he had done for you.

“Really?”

“You feel no guilt,” Joseph murmured, “you don’t even know yourself.”

Now, that wasn’t the fairest thing to say, you thought, offended. Where was this even coming from?

“An interesting specimen indeed,” Joseph continued softly, “you said you locked Alaric up, broke his legs, and threatened to kill yourself if he ever left you. You said he would cry and shake whenever you two slept together, and he was constantly ridden with nightmares. You say you gave him sleeping pills which you carefully crushed in his water so he wouldn’t know.”

“He had a plethora of problems he went through,” you said sadly. How upsetting for Alaric. You hoped that in his final comments, he got some peace, some closure.

“No guilt,” Joseph repeated, his eyes gleaming, “none whatsoever. A psychopath.”

“Calling him a psychopath is a little too much,” You said.

Joseph blinked.

Then he broke off into laughter — into peals of laughter that left his body shaking, leaving his body doubled over. He laughed so hard that tears pricked his eyes, and he continued doing so; uproarious, genuine, full of mirth. You wondered if Joseph had gone crazy.

And when he finally looked up at you, his eyes were murky. And so full of — what was that — ah, amusement. Joy. Affection.

And if you had squinted closer, you would have seen something blooming within. Something that, similarly, bloomed in your own eyes.

(Obsession.)

“My darling Y/n,” he laughed and laughed, “I wasn’t calling Alaric a psychopath. My dear, I was calling you one.”

**

How offensive!

“If that’s your idea of a joke, I don’t want to hear it,” you said. “Take your words back, doctor.”

“Y/n,” he cajoled, “this is our sixth session; shall we leave the formalities behind? Call me Joseph.”

Something had switched in his tone, in his behaviour. You ruminated upon it, trying to think. What was it? It mirrored your own behaviour, but then again; you were bad with naming emotions. Whatever; it would come to you later. You would search it up.

“That wasn’t a very nice thing to say, Joseph.” You said, chagrined.

“Let me tell you about some things, Y/n,” Joseph said, “I know you killed Alaric.”

**

“He jumped off,” you said, “out of his own will.”

“You brought him to,” Joseph replied merrily, “you murdered him.”

“I didn’t,” you furrowed your eyebrows, “what are you even saying?”

“My darling,” Joseph begun, still smiling, “Alaric came to me about you. The minute I saw your name — and then it was confirmed when his name left your mouth — I knew you were his boyfriend. Well, his ex boyfriend. He did not say he loved you. He was terrified of you, Y/n, he hated you. I lied, Y/n, because I was so amazed at how unbothered you seemed by it all — by his death —"

“I was grieving —"

“You were not,” Joseph said, leaning forward, “here’s what I think. Shall I hazard a guess? You were happy when he died, because it felt like you had control over his last moments. And then you felt emptiness, because you no longer had a victim. You no longer had someone to fixate over. And you mistook that for grief.”

“I did not murder him,” you said at last, your eyes blazing, “I did not do any of those things.”

“I have files, transcripts,” Joseph smiled at you gently, “all of which will point to you as his abuser; and it would reopen the case. You could get arrested. You would get arrested, if I sent them in.”

You looked at him, eerily calm. You tilted your head. “And would you?”

Something within you disappeared, completeiy effaced. The grief, gone. The guilt, gone.

Nothing within you. An empty husk.

Joseph’s eyes glittered. “As it appears, I’ve taken an incredible interest in you. Fondness.”

“Wonderful.” You said dryly.

“We are one and the same,” Joseph said, “twin flames. I have my obsessive tendencies, you have yours. We latch onto something and tear it apart until it becomes ours. Until its ruins belong to us.”

“Is that so?” You looked at Joseph.

“I thought I had gotten over it a long time ago,” Joseph laughed, “but then you came…and something tells me you won’t break as easily. Not that I intend for you to break.”

“Not that you can break me.”

“I’m sure you, even in your unbothered state, would not wish to rot in prison.”

“Are you threatening me, Joseph?”

“I am giving you a choice,” Joseph said sweetly, “choose me; give me the reins of your body and spirit and heart — or I send the evidence in.”

It sounded like a vow, a marriage proposal. And maybe in a way, it was.

“That’s very little of a choice,” but your heart was starting to speed up — thumping wildly against your chest. The feeling of being alive again.

Joseph laughed. “It is.”

And then he had pulled you towards you, and —

**

At home:

Google; what does it mean when someone has an unhealthy or compulsive preoccupation with a single thought, feeling, or person? It completely fills your mind, often making it difficult to stop, think logically, or let go…

The screen loaded for a blip of a second. You thought of Joseph, who had started to fill every inch of your thoughts.

Obsession.

You had gotten the word for it.

You thought of the blackmail; the way his desire reached deep within the roots of your soul, the way it had corroded him. The way his hands had curled around your waist; around the expanse of your skin. It’s unrelenting, brutal, brusque nature.

You traced the marks left on your collarbone; harsh, painful bite marks. The bruises littered on your skin. The way he had claimed you, salacious and wanting, the way you had felt obsession entrench you again, this time all consuming, darker, wilder.

Malicious, malignant, malevolent, you thought. And so the two of you would waltz to death together, intertwined. The inevitable march towards fate, towards hell. Sins layering and building slowly upon each other.

Let’s destroy and tear each other apart.

Two can play the game.

**

hope everybody enjoyed!!! it’s been incredibly long since I attempted any yandere x yandere. hope this didn’t disappoint!

Arranged marriages are never popular — true love has been romanticised of late; and there’s the horrific scenario of marrying someone whom you hate.

It helps that there’s a war plaguing your nation, and everyone is eager for a distraction — the libraries are now packed with people engrossed in romance novels; who desire to plunge their head in some sort of whirlwind, fairytale romance that inevitably finishes off with peace and riches and perhaps a tender kiss.

But you can’t say that you mind it terribly — arranged marriage, that is — as even though your parents have married you off to a respectable general officer, who works at the frontlines of the war, and who is fairly well off. The first meeting you shared — his name is Dorian, you learn, aristocratic on your tongue, the two syllables weighted and heavy — had been cordial, unassuming. Both of you had been polite, and he had opened the door for you, had cut your steak into tiny pieces for you to eat easier — had overall been a dream.

I’ll treat you like royalty, he had promised, his tone silky, unhurried, filled with reverence, like a prince, Y/n.

It was a heavy promise — one that belonged to those romance books that condemned arranged marriages and left it all up to fate; to the mingling of souls — but you had taken it anyway, full of mirth and delight that you had gotten so lucky. Newlywed couples struggled to obtain new houses, but perhaps because Dorian had high social standing now due to the war — but he had swept you gaily along to a mansion sequestered within his land — land that sprawled along the expanse of a forest. Inaccessible to many places, but he had kissed you on the forehead, reassuring you that this place had everything you ever wanted, and you suspected that the everything he referred to was him.

It was a normal marriage at first; a surprisingly amiable, beautiful one given the fact that it had been arranged. Dorian returned home with blooming flowers that tickled your nose, he kissed you on the forehead with great tenderness and affection — and similarly you returned this love readily, grateful to your parents for obtaining such a wondrous match. You’ve heard horror stories of violence; of bloodshed within the walls of people’s homes; and you’ve shuddered, thanking the gods that you’re so lucky.

Lucky, lucky, lucky.

That is, until the day he hit you.

**

Your first thought is that it is going to leave a scar; Dorian is powerful, first of all; owing to his military training, owing to how well built he is. And so when the blow connects to your face; when you feel the innocuous tendrils of pain bloom on your cheek, burning and searing through the veins of your body, you choke.

Blood drips from your mouth; you must have bitten too harshly on your tongue. All you can think is: it might leave a scar; it’s so painful and it hurts, it hurts, it hurts terribly.

You think of the events that transpired before that, of Dorian’s sallow expression, his anger slowly rising, irritation spilling over the boiling point; the nascent of his emotions that led to this. His inordinate anger.

“What’s this talk about you going to the library?” Dorian had said, when he had kissed your forehead and had set the groceries down. You hadn’t noticed then, the cracks in his demeanour already; the perforations that littered his attitude as his eyes glittered and watched you. Observed you. You had been blissfully none the wiser: unaware of how Dorian held you askance.

“It’s been a while since I went there.” You had answered casually, studying the groceries he had brought home. Always of the highest quality, which reminded you how privileged you were, cooped up within his embrace with nothing but the finest. Dorian had made good of his promises. “I miss everyone; Joy, Malcolm — I haven’t stepped out of here in a while.”

“We have a library here,” Dorian had said, spitting the words out with surprising vitriol, and you had jumped: “I built one for you, did I not, darling? Because you said you loved reading.”

“Well, yes, but I do miss the social aspect of it.” You blinked your eyes, surprised at his tone, redolent of anger and not the gentleness you were always so accustomed to. “Meeting my friends.”

“You have me,” Dorian said quietly. The calm before the storm; equanimity before violence. If only you knew sooner, you could have ducked. You could have avoided his brutal, malicious blow.

“I do,” you said softly, “but I miss them, too —"

And then that’s when he had hit you; a swift, decisive blow — one that sent you crumpling to the floor, wheezing and holding your battered cheek, eyes tearing up. Your breaths came out ragged, your voice came out hoarse as you managed to stutter a what, and Dorian looked down at you, posture imposing, eyes sharp.

“You have me,” he repeated, and then smiling, seemingly taking pleasure in your perilous, pernicious state, “you have me, Y/n. Why miss other people?”

You stared at him, unable to believe just what you were seeing. A monster, a monster, a monster.

“Now, don’t overreact.” Dorian reached out towards you, clicking his tongue irascibly when you flinched away. His gloves caught your side of the face, and pain shot through your spine, lumbering, slow, as he brushed away your tears. “I married you. We are husband and husband, tied together. Your time is unalienable; it cannot be transferred to others, and I wish not for it to be. You are mine,” he said consolingly.

You had choked. A pained, grievous sound had escaped your lips. Perhaps the slap had been extra painful because the wedding ring he had on his finger, glittering, expensive, and proud had been the one to hit your cheek. Dorian always had his idiosyncratic moments; moments where his voice was too soft, insidious, dangerous — moments where you saw the promise of violence but it never came true. Moments that were lurid, shocking — but there would be a swift kiss in your cheek, a devoted sigh, an enamoured expression.

But now it did, you thought in despair, and the first bite of acrimony hit you then; the pure fear and rage and anger — and now it did.

Four months into a blissful, happy marriage, and everything had crumbled down.

**

You can’t remember how long it has been; this insidious, insipid cycle — or when it’s started. But everyone is a slave to something, and in this case you’re a slave to this very marriage, which has been tossed to the ground, upended on the streets. There is only bitterness that fills you. The nasty, unholy feeling you must purge.

Dorian never apologised. No; he truly saw it as part and parcel of your marriage. He was a paranoid man, steeped in fear that one day you would leave him for another, terrified that you would one day be desecrated by someone else. But ironically, it was this paranoia that made you want to run; to fill your incredibly lonely self with human connection, because you missed your family and friends so dearly.

But each of your attempts to run had been stymied by him. Each time your cold, clammy hands reached for the extra key in his jacket that hung loosely by the side — he would appear, imperious, chuckling, amused at your temerity, at your sheer courage. He would say, in a sonorous tone, you just never learn, do you, Y/n, and then the cycle would repeat again: the violence, your shudders, the comfort that followed afterward that made you feel debauched. His personality was a rupture of the otherwise sublime, angelic beauty he had.

You are foolish, Y/n, he tells you when you two are in bed, and he is holding you, and there is a brief moment of respite that betrays your mind — you are foolish. I am in control.

**

The thing about humans is that they are tenacious beings. You do not give up, because general or not, violence or not: you must stop this. You must end this now, before you douse a bottle of gasoline on yourself and self immolate. At least then you will die of your own terms, not by nursing your forever open wounds and groaning and not by his hands.

It’s the advent of the war party — this marriage has lasted through the whole war, and now Dorian is receiving a prize for contributing as one of the heroes — that makes you plan. It’s custom that a spouse would follow the other to the party, but Dorian, of course, would rather leave you here than bring you outside, to the wandering eyes that would look at you, to the gazes that would tear you down. He calls this an altruistic act for you, but you beg to differ. But you nod your head. Look adoringly at him, despite the pernicious ache that tears you apart inside.

But this is your chance. You have been waiting for this day forever, have been counting down the days, looking at the calendar — because you’ve made a copy of the key out of clay; and you plan to use it. Clay made from the soil of potted plants; water taken from the taps — all melded and left outside to harden and to become a perfect replica. All done in the areas that cannot be caught by the cameras that litter every expanse and inch of the room. You’ve memorised where they are by now; some hidden slyly between couch cushions, some in plants.

Your heart is beating fast. This is it; this is it; this is it. The words are a mantra, dancing in your head. You feel sick, beyond anxious, but you hide all of those feelings when you kiss Dorian goodbye, congratulating him and even coyly patting the front of his uniform — an act he so dearly loves. You can see what he’s thinking; that you’ve finally become docile. That you’ve finally become good.

Be good, he says before he leaves, like it is a reminder.

You nod your head again.

**

Your plan nearly works; oh god, it does. You’re already out of the house by then — fleeing, running, not allowing to get your hopes up but shit, it’s so close; the exit — and you’re running fast and your heart is burning and your lungs are choking — and —

So close

So close

So close

“Now I am the foolish one,” this utterly furious, ravaged voice is what tears you from your thoughts, throws you into the deepest despair and solidifies your descent into this perennial cycle of violence once more — “to leave you alone. You’ve gotten smart, have you? If I was a second later, you would have left.”

It’s raining, cold and bitter, and you’re shivering, hair damp, clothes drenched. Your thoughts are turning delirious, bereft of reason, bereft of hope.

Doom awaits you.

Dorian

Dorian

Dorian

“You will regret,” Dorian says, and his voice is so soft, so quiet. But in it lies terrible, terrible anger that you will not be able to coax out of him, that you will not be able to negate. The anger he had at the past escape attempts cannot be compared to this; it is disparate — because for this one he had trusted you. “Oh, Y/n, you will regret.”

So far

So far

So far

**

This time round he makes sure the punishments stick to you.

This time round the agony is so painful that you feel yourself shrink, turn timorous, turn into a coward.

This time round the anger is so sharp, like it’s been sharpened to a needlepoint — that you accept it, let it corrupt you.

This time round you give in to him. To his veneration, appetence. To his hunger, that scoops you hollow, that makes you anew. To his control.

This time round you become fully his.

**

“Do you wish to go out?” Dorian hums, “it’s a sunny day, isn’t it, Y/n? Don’t you want to go to the library?”

Your thoughts are a soft murky spot in your head, swimming between broken fragments and torn memories. The bruises lay on your skin; scars littered across every orifice. Dorian holds you sweetly, kissing your forehead.

“I have you,” you tell him, “why would I ever need that for? And we have a library.”

He laughs; and oh god, you love that sound. So melodic, so assuring, so comforting. (Surely the shiver down your spine is because it makes you giddy with happiness. There are some things the body cannot unlearn.)

“I was prepared to get you the wheelchair.” Dorian says gently, “but we can stay here, if you’d like.”

Of course you’ll love to stay here. Your legs don’t really work the same anymore — all broken, battered, crushed to bits — and it’s Dorian who attends so well to you, despite the fact that you can’t move around the same anymore. You don’t remember what caused that, but it doesn’t matter: you are still loved by your husband. The vows are still there; til death do us part.

This, in the end, is still a fairytale romance.

—

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

You and Huang Xinghui have been friends since middle school. Basically growing up with each other. He was your first real friend and you both shared a sort of secret relationship that others couldn’t understand.

Though everyone around you kept telling you that Xinghui was in love with you.

The idea seemed ludicrous. Even when it was said to you at your all boys high school. Xinghui not having a girlfriend made perfect sense to you then because what girls would he talk to? You both spent time together so you knew his schedule perfectly.

Class, dorm room, lunch or dinner, and then his piano lessons. That’s about it. So you were a bit confused why the boys at your school kept teasing that he was your boyfriend. Not that there was anything wrong for boys to date… but you and Xinghui?

They were making things up.

Even when you finally graduated and were heading to university, you and Xinghui somehow managed to be dormmates. You were excited at the idea of being with someone you were already so comfortable with. Your mom had something else to say though.

“Just don’t cause too many issues for your next door neighbors. The walls aren’t thick y’know.”

“What do you mean? I make sure to keep my voice down while gaming.” You said as you packed up your gaming console to take to the university. Your back was turned to your mom so you couldn’t see the face she made.

She sighed. “(Name), I mean don’t have sex without taking into consideration your neighbors. I trust you and Xinghui are smarter than that.”

“What–?” You turned to face her, feeling your face warm up. “Who–? Why–? Who would I even be having sex with? I’m a proud virgin!” Your words tumbled out fast as you clutched your gaming console to your chest. “I’m saving it, yknow?”

“Right.” She muttered, raising an eyebrow. “Well my point still stands even if you don’t go all the way.”

“Ma, me and Xinghui are just friends.”

“Sure.” She patted your shoulder before continuing on with helping you pack.

“Isn’t it weird? My mom thought we were dating!” You sat down on the small couch in the center of the room. It was a semi large one. Xinghui’s bed was pressed against the back wall, his desk right beside it in front of the large window. While your bed was on the left wall—a high rise bed with your desk underneath it.

All things considered the room was a great size for the both of you.

Xinghui broke down one of the boxes he used to hold some of his things. The couch was facing the wall across from his bed so you couldn’t see his face. He didn’t respond at first. You were about to repeat yourself thinking he didn’t hear you when he finally did.

“My parents think so too.”

“What? Well what did you tell them?” You turned back to face him, watching as he placed the deconstructed box underneath his bed. His back still facing you.

“Mhm.” Was he said. You frowned and watched as he continued unpacking. Xinghui was a man of few words anyway so you weren’t too shocked whenever he didn’t answer a question of yours. You usually figured out what he meant by yourself anyway.

Huang Xinghui was a handsome guy but his personality of keeping silent when spoken to made him a bit hard to build relationships with. He had ‘cold’ eyes according to everyone else but you thought his eyes were quite lively. They spoke for him most of the time. Through his eyes you’d understand exactly what he was feeling or thinking.

So he had gotten into the habit of looking away.

You watched Xinghui continue unpacking–taking in his newish style. Now that you both didn’t need to wear uniforms anymore, you’d get to see him in regular clothing at school. He had a darker aesthetic. The only bright part about him was the small section of dyed blond hair from his bangs.

“What do you want for dinner?” Xinghui plugged in his phone to charge before finally turning over to face you. His face was neutral. When you looked him in the eye, you knew you missed your chance to read what he was feeling earlier.

A huff left you. Cheeky bastard.

“There’s a popular chicken place nearby. I heard they make great fried chicken.” You grinned. “It’s Saturday tomorrow so…” you wiggled your eyebrows, letting your words trail off.

Xinghui only shook his head.

After about two beers and an entire box of chicken fully devoured, you were stuffed. The laptop in front of you on the coffee table was playing some random movie you don’t remember choosing. It looked to be a horror movie though. You yawned and stretched out on the couch, almost slipping off.

Others would find eating chicken and drinking beer without talking, only the movie being the source of sound, to be uncomfortable. But you were used to sitting with your thoughts when it came to Xinghui. It was usually without any type of noise half the time.

So movies were welcomed.

You glanced over at Xinghui, wanting to ask if he remembered what movie this was when you noticed he was already staring at you. “Xinghui?” You blink and give him a slight smile. He was holding another beer in his hand but it was beginning to slip from his grasp. How many did he drink?

“Xinghui?” You reached over and grabbed the near empty bottle. When placing it with the other finished beer bottles, you realized there were over four other bottles next to your two. Your eyes widened slightly but you shook your head. It wasn’t the strangest thing–sometimes Xinghui drinks more than you.

A lot more.

Five in one night seemed excessive. You looked back at him only to flinch. He was closer, much closer. His nose brushed against yours and you couldn’t help but giggle at first. You blinked excessively at his long overgrown bangs teasing your cheeks. His breath smelled exactly like the cheap beer he bought.

“You ok?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

Xinghui hummed. “After two beers, you fell asleep for a few minutes.” He said.

“I did?” You tried thinking back but couldn’t really remember that. You were a lightweight but you didn’t think you were that much of a lightweight. “Sorry, I think the whole moving in tired me out.” You yawned.

“Mhm.”

“Let’s just head to bed, we can clean up in the morning.” You said, glancing at the mess on the coffee table. It wasn’t much but with you being so sleepy it felt like a whole mountain of work.

“(Name).”

“Hm?”

“I wanna kiss you.”

“What–?”

Suddenly you felt lips pressed against yours.

Huang Xinghui liked you.

For a while now apparently. Everyone was right. Perhaps you were the only one who was dumb enough to not realize it. But was it that strange to believe that your friend since forever was just that? A friend?

He had kissed you.

Three weeks ago.

And everything has been awkward ever since. For the first time in your life, Xinghui was avoiding you. That kiss changed everything. You remember not even kissing him back. Just staring straight at him—trying to understand what was happening.

When he pulled away and walked to his bedroom. Slamming the door shut.

The next day you tried to talk to him like normal but he ignored you. Pointedly so. Then he started making sure he practically never came across you. It was a feat. You wondered how he managed to never be home when you were home. Making sure you never crossed paths on campus.

You were miserable.

University wasn’t supposed to push you and Xinghui apart. It wasn’t like you even refused him. Even if you didn’t see him that way. He was a part of your life and you could never imagine one without him. You didn’t even have any other friends beside him.

Something your mom had constantly criticized. You always pushed those critiques away. Now you realized why she had them. You were essentially all alone without Xinghui. It was lonely.

Almost four weeks passed when you decided you couldn’t take it anymore.

Luckily you knew Xinghui’s schedule. He had told you before classes started. So in an effort to save your (only) friendship—you skipped class and waited outside his first class of the day. Ancient Chinese medicine.

A few minutes passed before Xinghui left the classroom, head down as he scrolled on his phone. You quickly jumped up from your waiting spot against the wall and sprinted over to him. Xinghui didn’t look up at first. His eyes narrowing at his phone before he seemed to finally feel your presence.

His eyes flickered over to you.

He quickly sprinted away without a word.

“Bastard.” You cursed to yourself as you followed after him. Xinghui was heading to his next class. Chemistry if you remember correctly. He was already sitting at a spot in the back of the room, right near the window. You entered the classroom without any hesitation and plopped down beside him.

“You can’t sit here.” Xinghui simply said.

“Why not?”

“It’s his seat.”

You glanced over to see a student walking over with a confused expression.

“Uh, are you a new student?” The guy asked. “This is my seat.”

“No,” you reached over and grabbed Xinghui’s arm, tugging him close to you. Xinghui stared at you with a shocked expression. “I’m trying to make things right with my friend but he’s been ignoring me. So I’m following him everywhere until he notices me.”

“Oh…”

“Can you cheer me on, Ge?” You pouted. Xinghui tried pulling his hand free but you only tightened your grip, resting your head on his shoulder.

The guy only shook his head. “It’s too early for this… good luck,” he sat down in the empty chair beside you.

You gave him a grateful smile before turning your attention to Xinghui. He was looking straight ahead. Jaw tightened. He tried once more to tug his hand free but you tightened your octopus-like grip on him.

“What do you want for dinner? We haven’t had dinner together in a while.” You asked.

He didn’t respond. Even as class went on, the professor seemingly paid you no mind—Xinghui’s jaw was tense the entire time. His gaze straight ahead. Fingers gripping tightly on his pen as he took notes.

Class ended. Xinghui made another attempt to pull his arm free that was met with resistance once again.

People began to file out of the classroom. You knew Xinghui didn’t have any more classes after this so he wasn’t in a rush to get anywhere. Xinghui didn’t move a second until the classroom was completely empty. He turned to face you.

His expression almost made you flinch. Never in your entire life had he ever looked at you like this. With such… anger. Contempt even. Why was he so angry? It wasn’t like you did anything.

“Are you finding this funny?” He whispered. His free hand reached over and grabbed your hand, squeezing it tightly. The pain caused you to wince and unintentionally release his arm. He pulled himself free and quickly stood up.

You stood up as well. “Funny? Nothing is funny right now, Xinghui. I’m confused about what happened to us.”

“Why are you confused? I confessed. You rejected me. There’s nothing else left to say.”

“So that means you’re going to throw away our friendship?”

“(Name), how dumb are you?”

You bristled at his tone.

“I never viewed you as a friend.” Xinghui’s words shook you to your core. But he continued on. “I loved you. And if you don’t want to date me, then why should I hurt myself and force a friendship I don’t care about?”

“Don’t… care about?”

Xinghui simply scoffed. “Once the lease is over, I’ll move out. You should make sure you find a roommate before then.”

Move out?

He’s going to leave you.

Permanently?

Xinghui grabbed his bag and moved to walk away but you quickly grabbed his arm. He tried tugging himself free. “What—?”

“No way! I don’t want you to ever leave my life.”

“Are you insane? Just how selfish are you to force me to still be your friend when I said I don’t want to be.”

Your lips pulled into a thin line. “If that’s selfish, then I don’t care. You can be selfish too in return.”

“How—?”

“You can ask for anything from me. Anything you want, I can’t refuse. Just…” your throat felt tight. Eyes beginning to burn. “Just continue being my friend. Please.”

It was quiet for a moment.

“Anything?” He whispered.

“Mhm.”

Xinghui stared at you. His eyes unreadable. It wasn’t an expression that you had seen before. He didn’t feel like your friend anymore.

“I wanna fuck you.”

There was no reason for why you were still a virgin. You never really dated. Never seeing the point. Xinghui was all you really needed. He was always there so you never saw the purpose in pursuing any connection outside of him.

Maybe that’s why you allowed for this to happen.

The reason why you would do anything to keep Xinghui in your life.

Why you were currently bent over the couch, getting fucked by Xinghui. There was no build up. No easing you into anything. You both walked home without saying a thing. The only sound being the door closing shut behind you. Xinghui had pushed you into the couch, pulling your pants down, and spitting into his hand.

He was nice enough to finger you open. It burned. Not a pleasant feeling really. He didn’t waste a moment before pushing inside of you. Officially taking your virginity. You squeezed your eyes shut, gripping tightly at the couch cushion as his hips slammed forward against your ass.

His cock stretched you full. Nothing in common with his fingers. It hardly prepared you for how big he was. You could feel his cock against your warm walls. The drag of his cock as he kept a fast consistent pace. He didn’t say a word.

It almost felt clinical.

But even then, you were a little glad he was your first. At least it went to someone you cared for. Just as fast as it started—it was over. Xinghui pulled out. Warm sticky cum dripped onto your lower back.

The sound of a zipper and rustling of jeans. That’s all you heard before footsteps pattering down the hallway.

You were all alone.

Everything went back to normal.

Or at least, you pretend it did. The next day Xinghui was in the kitchen. He almost looked shocked to see you. His eyes watching your every move. It felt like he was expecting you to be angry or something.

But why would you be?

You smiled at him, “did you eat breakfast yet? I’m gonna scramble some eggs.” He only stared at you as if you had grown two heads.

Things continued on like nothing even happened. Only for you though. You spoke to Xinghui as if the whole situation never happened. Not even that you had moved passed it. Xinghui, however, was struggling to do the same. You could tell.

He wasn’t normal like usual. His posture tense whenever you touched him. As if you were going to hit him. Which confused you. Why would you ever hurt him? Almost a month passed like this. You interacting with him like normal. While Xinghui grew confused by the day.

But it seemed he had a breaking point.

Your mom had stopped by to drop off some food. She could tell something was wrong.

“Are you… two okay?” She asked, just as she was ready to leave. Her eyes flickering between the both of you. “I know living together can raise problems but I hope you talk things out.” Her gaze pointedly turned to Xinghui.

“Mhm? We’re good! Great even.” You laughed, waving your mom’s worries off like it was unfounded. She hesitated but soon nodded her head. Deciding there was no purpose in prying. You waved her goodbye and closed the door behind her.

“We’re good?” Xinghui suddenly spoke.

You looked back at him. “Hm?”

“We’re ‘good?’ What are you talking about? We haven’t been good in almost three months.”

“What do you mean?”

“What—? (Name), haven’t you noticed the tension between us?” His eyes were wide. Perhaps the first time in awhile that you could see emotions in them that weren’t confusion. It was filled with hurt. “I… I took something from you in anger. I hurt you on purpose because I wanted to get back at you for rejecting me. Why haven’t you noticed that?”

You blinked.

A small smile formed on your lips. “Why are you acting like I didn’t know that?”

“Huh?”

You stepped forward. Hands reaching out as you grabbed Xinghui’s. His hands were bigger than yours. It had been forever since you touched him. A giddy laugh left you. “I know you did that to hurt me.” You looked up at him. “I don’t care. I asked for it. I wanted it. Anything to keep you with me.”

Xinghui stared at you. Really stared at you. He looked as if he was trying to comprehend what you were saying. Realizing just… how devoted you were to this ‘friendship’ with him. “They were right.” He whispered to himself.

“Who?”

He shook his head, “you want me in your life?”

“Yes.”

“Only me?”

“….yes.” You squeezed his hands. “No one else matters. No one can ever compare to you.”

Xinghui freed his hands. He reached over and gripped the back of your neck, fingers digging into your skin as he tugged you forward. “Then I can do whatever I want?”

“Mhm,” you let out a breathy laugh, lips parting into a smile. “Please. Anything to keep you in my life.”

A pained expression flickered on Xinghui’s face but it was gone before you could question it. He pulled you forward and captured your lips into a sneering kiss. It was the first time he’s kissed since that night.

This one was different. While the one that night was soft, almost nervous—this one was hungry. Xinghui knew what he wanted. And what he wanted was you.

You being his.

His free hand gripped pants, popping the button open. He pushed you back against the door. Your body banging against it from the force. Pain briefly shot through your back but his kiss distracted you from verbally out any pain. You struggled on what to do with your hands. They pressed against the door before you hesitantly reached out and placed them on Xinghui’s shoulders.

He swallowed every moan and whimper you let out into the kiss. His hand slipped into your boxers, grabbing a handful of your ass. Everything felt… different this time. It didn’t feel mechanical. This time you could really feel the hungry Xinghui felt for you.

He kissed you like he wanted to eat you. Your back arched off the door, eyes squeezing shut as you felt fingers tease your asshole. They were dry and unable to push in due to resistance. You finally pulled away from the kiss—needing to breathe.

You buried your face into Xinghui’s shoulders. Legs twitching. Xinghui didn’t say much. But that didn’t shock you. He was never much of a talker. The sound of him spitting caused you to flinch. Newly wet fingers pressed against your hole once more.

Like before he didn’t waste a second before slipping in two fingers. The stretch earned a pained gasp from you. However he was more gentle this time. His fingers slowly stretching you. Properly preparing you. A graze against a certain area caused you to moan. Pleasure shooting through your veins.

“What was that…?” You muttered into his shoulder. Xinghui didn’t answer. His free hand tightened its grip on your waist, stabilizing you.

He continued to stretch you. Occasionally brushing against the little spot that made you whimper. Your toes curled. Hands gripping tightly at his shoulders. Your cock dripped pre-cum onto the ground.

That was different as well.

Your body was actually reacting this time around.

Xinghui suddenly flipped you around, pressing your face right into the door. One hand held the back of your head while the other gripped your waist. You shuddered at his forcefulness. Hands uselessly gripping at the door.

“Are you going to wear a condom this time?” You whispered.

“Why should I? I’ll be the only man who gets to fuck you anyway.”

You didn’t know why your cock twitched at his words.

Xinghui wasn’t slow. Perhaps deciding he was kind enough to properly stretch you out. He thrust his cock inside of you without warning. A loud cry leaving you at the sudden action. His hand tightened its grip on your waist to keep you still.

His hips slammed into your ass. The sound of skin slapping together filled the hallway. Short quick moans left you in tandem with his thrusts. Your eyes were threatening to roll back. It was hard for you to even keep your body up.

If Xinghui wasn’t holding you up, you were sure you would’ve fallen down by now.

Only a second later and you felt your stomach tighten. A pain whimper leaving you as you came. Cum dripped onto the floor but Xinghui didn’t let up. In fact you felt as if his thrusts had gotten faster. More brutal.

“Xinghui, s…slow down.” You reached back to grab his hand on your waist. But he only picked up the pace. The silence you got in return made you whimper in response. He was chasing his own release. Uncaring of the overstimulation he was causing you.

It felt like forever. His thrusts pushing you further into the door. Neighbors would certainly complain about the noise in the morning. Your moans were louder as well. Cock hard once more, ready to cum again.

Another particularly hard thrust, he pulled your hips back, ass flushed against his hips—cum releasing inside you. Your legs twitched. Fingers pressed against the door as your cock came again as well. More watery than the first orgasm. Hot cum filled you inside. It felt gross but also oddly comforting.

Xinghui was really a part of you. Deep inside.

You sighed. At least now you could go relax and take a shower. You tried pushing yourself off the door when Xinghui forced you back against it. His body pressed against your own. Lips brushing against the tip of your ear.

“You want me to stay with you forever, yea?” He whispered.

“Yes…”

Hands slowly reached underneath your shirt. His hands felt hot against your skin. Gripping possessively at your body.

“Then I’ll need to have access to you.”

“Access?”

“Yes.” He shifted his hips. The drag of his cock against your sensitive walls earned a small gasp from you. “I’ll continue being your friend…. And you’ll let me fuck you whenever I want. Can you handle that?”

You glanced back at him. Eyes wide.

A smile formed on your lips.

“Yea, I can handle it.”

Xinghui was always told by others that you had a weird obsession over him. He didn’t see it. At least it didn’t really bother him back then. It didn’t seem serious. You just didn’t have any other friends and well neither did he really. None of them compared to you.

He had fallen for you but he knew deep down you didn’t feel the same.

But he was over it that night. He couldn’t take it anymore and just kissed you. When he pulled away he didn’t expect the look you had given him. One completely devoid of any emotion.

Just… blank.

Like you couldn’t even comprehend what he had just done. Like he genuinely ruined you. He hadn’t realized just how attached you were to him as a friend.

It angered him.

When it really should’ve worried him that you were this devoted to him. In a messed up way he wished your devotion was out of love. Not friendship.

He tried pushing you away. Even went as far as to take your virginity, believing you’d snap and kick him out. But you didn’t. You just… pretended everything was fine.

And in a way he tried to do the same but when you had lied to your mother he snapped. When presented with the reality that you were genuinely not okay. That your friendship with him had seemed to mess with your psyche—he should’ve nipped it in the bud. Should’ve called your mom and insist she take you to therapy… something.

He was happy to keep you as his.

With time he could always get you to fall in love with him.

You both only wanted the other even if the way you wanted each other wasn’t equal.

It was only you and him.

And it was going to stay that way.

mammon

- is constantly walking around his room shirtless, usually in grey sweatpants, obscenely stretching and groaning and you are just. sitting on his bed :) not a care in the world :)

- eventually you ask if he wants a massage with all that noise he's making. he readily takes you up on this offer. finally, you're making a move!

- you beat the fuck out of his back.

- it wasn't really hurting to begin with, and now he isn't sure his muscles are even solid anymore. he thinks acupuncture would've been a more delightful experience, but he keeps that to himself with the way you're naively beaming at him

- tries to grope your chest when you cuddle. when you let him, it's because "they're pretty good stress balls haha :3" ur stressing his balls goddammit

- one night while you're watching a movie he takes your hand and brings it to his chest. slowly, slowly runs it down his body, keeping an eye on you the whole time

- he's like, 99% positive you want him too but that 1% keeps him from fully bringing your hand to his dick. he damn near cries tears of joy when you make the move yourself

leviathan

- yall ain't gettin nowhere ain't doin SHIT

- you're too oblivious to notice the way he blushes and squirms when you get too close, and he's too scared to tell you he's tryna fuck :(

- he's terrified you'll finally see his true, evil, perverted ways (okay guy) and leave him, so he wills his boners down through pure determination undertale reference

- you think he just doesn't want to have sex with you, which is upsetting, sure, but it's okay you love him anyways!! poor guy is jerking off to your smell on his hoodie every night

- it all comes to a head when you sit in his lap one night, the two of you on your bed as he shows you some new game on his handheld

- you shift just right and within a minute he's rock hard beneath you, despite his best efforts to think about gross things like vomit or Mammon's face

- he's immediately stuttering an apology until you grab his face and kiss him hard, muttering something against his lips about how "the only thing you should be apologizing for is not coming to me sooner"

satan

- out of all the brothers, i think he enjoys the "chase" the most. he finds a sense of satisfaction in figuring out what flusters you, using that to his advantage when trying to get you to notice his growing desire

- likes to play footsie with you when you study, or press his chest to your back when he grabs a book on a too-high self, just to see your face get heated

- picks out demon biology books that have... interesting illustrations to see if you get the hint. you don't, instead successfully memorizing the 17 parts of their reproductive systems

- as much as he enjoys toying with you, he's sure he'd enjoy being inside you way more. after one too many deflections in a day, his demon form peeks out

- he agitatedly snaps the tip of his tail against the ground, glaring daggers at anyone who dares to breathe in his vicinity

- you innocently ask him what's wrong, immediately going to calm him down as you normally would; hand on his chest, voice soft and sweet

- it's all too much for him though - the next thing you know he's got you pinned to the door of his bedroom, almost snarling into your skin all the things he's dreamed of doing to you

asmodeus

- oh you are KILLING him. he's, like, the horniest guy in all three worlds and you are somehow interpreting his hand on your ass as casual affection

- he could splay himself out naked on your bed, rose in his mouth, and you'd be like "omg cuddle time :3" he is losing. his. MIND.

- when he does skincare with you he insists on using this specific oil on your ass and thighs. you let him, because he's so caring and sweet and obviously it's just good for your skin!

- damn near bangs his head on the wall because he is literally groping you and you seemingly don't care

- there are times he knows he turns you on too, as the Avatar of Lust and all, but you still don't do anything about it

- you don't mention it, you don't make a move, and you don't return what is obviously sensual affection when he throws it your way! wtf mc >:(

- eventually plainly asks if you even want to have sex with him, pretty pout on his face, and you're like "wtf yes you just never made a move sigh😪"

- the entire Devildom heard him scream that day

beelzebub

- he is too much of a gentleman to throw himself onto you, as badly as he wants to. he's waiting for a big green light first

- can't help himself sometimes though; when he's carrying you bridal-style and you're staring up at him with those big doe eyes, telling him how you love how strong he is? boioioing

- during movie night, when you're sitting in his lap, he growls with each little movement you make. you assume it's his stomach and offer to get him more snacks. he cements his grip around your waist

- has broken the armrest of a chair by gripping his hands into it before. the reason? you sucking chocolate sauce off your fingers. he will probably do it again

- tries to get out all his frustration during workouts, except you insist on tagging along to be his spotter (like the weights he bench presses aren't 3x your size anyways)

- ends up with you underneath him as he does pushups, each one being rewarded with a kiss and your addictive smile

- he's half hard before he's done 10 pushups. his lips are halfway to yours before his dick gets to you first. needless to say, yall got in a different kind of training that night

belphegor

- probably gets irritated the quickest out of everyone. he wants you fully, like, yesterday

- he consistently gives you wet dreams about the two of you; everything he wishes he could do while you were awake, and then some

- when you wake up and don't even mention any dreams to him, he decides he simply has to up the ante. starts whispering innuendos to you before bed - every single one goes over your head bars

- purposefully does things he knows will piss you off, and then eggs you on to "punish" him. you decide on the silent treatment. he decides on suicide.

- wraps his tail around you when he's especially needy, and you just absentmindedly play with the fluffy end, fully unaware of how hot he's getting

- one night he falls asleep first as usual, spooning you; his arms tightly wrapped around you, full body pressed into yours